Black India Ink stains unprimed Rives where nipples were once aroused by a simple touch or slight chill and where womanhood responds. Bold hues of soft pastel represent the resilience of my Black sisters who are survivors for, statistically, we die from breast cancer at a higher rate. Pastel and charcoal marks mourn stolen flesh; however, gratitude for still living prevails. It was 10 years ago. It feels like yesterday.