So there I was, a snotty, bratty little girl, not at all pretty, sixteen, in Edith Piaf's 1948 Oscar gown, in Desiree Duncan's bedroom, singing "La Vi... en Rose", three or four more of her songs, ending, of course, with "Je Ne Regnette Pas" (I Have No Regrets). My friends and my sister were playing behind me. The song was an odd one for a privileged, sheltered girl like me, but I didn't care, fuck it, I was twirling, twirling around, gesturing with my face and body, my arms and my hands, as if I. It was still taller than a giraffe and almost as immense as a whale, but it was rapidly melting beneath the hot sunlight on the even hotter sand. This was the first time Glade had ever felt anything as cold as ice on her skin. It was so cold it almost burnt, but it was a welcome respite from the burning heat. The water that melted from it was fresh rather than salt. There were even a few nuts, fruit and even frozen fish trapped inside the ice as it melted."There must be an end to this desert,". More

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