They found her in the shadow of the rumbling train,
eyes wide open, sad and broken,
looking up through the sands of time.
She had a name before, not Dolly not Bunny,
o, too many rain showers ago.
Daylight wanes, the night soon forgets her.
There are eight million stories in the gutter.
~ Story by Genevieve Hafner and Joy Lau
Seeking the poetry that seeps through the cracks of the city streets led me to those naked scenes that eerily seemed to mirror the evils of society. These dolls, having fallen from grace, are telling us our own stories.