Abused and Belonging in The Mysteries of Vorkuta

How else can I approach this, but to say, that somewhere buried in the murk of abuse a single star rose up from behind the curtain-like horizon. That single star hung in my mind a long time and a piece of me followed it for years, intermingling along the pathway to it with toyed with thoughts about what was and what couldn’t be.
The star, when I came closer, was a knotwork of unintended desires. A space carved against the sky illustrating wishes of giving so warm, so wholehearted, it is submission. I saw the objectification and I knew I wanted, and wished for it.
But somewhere in stability.