This book is incredibly beautiful. It's really a magical picture of feral girlhood that was so heartbreaking while somehow like making almost zero sense. Highly metaphorical and reliant on symbolic literary devices instead of reality. I think my favorite was a child's description of a cement mixer as "a giant gray wasp grinding up larvae and secreting jelly, thats how sidewalk is made". It unsettled me so much because I felt like it was actually written from the perspective of a child. The nonsensical-ness and the logic was so realistically child-like. A lovely book about women and our bodies, ghosts, and ownership.