How long has it been? How much longer must I endure this agony?
Every day the same. My mind in constant turmoil. Should I take matters into my own hands? Dare I take the risk, knowing how it could all end in disaster?
I’m at a stage where I no longer look in the mirror. I have aged beyond all recognition, even to myself.
And every night… the same dream.
A salon door opens. An angel of mercy beckons me in. Apron tied and masked up, she brandishes her trusty scissors and tube of hair colourant.
I live in hope.