This is a raw ‘red text’. It is an extraction; a manifesto congealing on red raw skin. The Strange-Girl is a raw thing, birthed from the red raw skin of the Girl-sign. The sign of Girl is a fluid one. She is a figure in progress, leaving her open to both the manipulations of capitalism, and the figurative and conceptual experimentations of those who want to see capitalism fall. Raw is both a condition of the Strange-Girl, and her state in this text, which presents the first phase of composing her faculties, the first figuring of her potential. This is then a raw text, containing a raw theory, and is written accordingly, in the Strange-Girl’s raw tongue. The question is: how to destroy a reality? Destroy is a verb with an objective, meaning to put an end to the existence of something by damaging or attacking it: The room had been destroyed by fire. To ruin someone; to defeat someone utterly. The tribulation of rebellion is that to escape the chalk circle drawn around you, you cannot simply draw another circle. To draw another is only to retain the sovereignty of the first. This is not to say that there isn’t a place for dreaming; without imaginative transportation to the thing you wish for, it will never find its place on your tongue. However, escapism will not bring escape. We cannot live on the hope of autonomous alternatives, as by their very condition they speak to limitations. To bask in the constructions of the imagination is to bury your head like those who believe that the status quo is just how things are. Rather than the drawing of another circle, a swift succession of kicks should be made to the chalk circle to change its matter. To destroy something, you must work within the thing that you wish to destroy, manifesting impalpably so as not to be brushed aside with a single gesture of the hand. It should be a considered manipulation of mortar, rather than a body slamming into a brick wall. A storm cloud must first hang overhead, before lightning can strike. To destroy something, you must start by making a threat. The French collective Tiqqun, comprised of writers, artists and activists, formed in 1999 and remained operative until the 9/11 terror attacks of 2001. The group produced thirty-four texts in two volumes of a self-published journal of the same name; these writings include Preliminary Materials for a Theory of the Young-Girl (1999). Anonymity is a crucial aspect of their project; texts cannot be pinned to the bodies of individual authors, rather, all are presented under the agency of Tiqqun. At the heart of their radical political philosophy is the admission of an always-already-there state. Tiqqun is only the manifestation of the potential of what already is, and it will be fulfilled according to its ‘invisible pulsation in a temporality inside history.’ Tiqqun advocate the ruse of the ungraspable: methods that work within the enemy systems of capitalism to undermine and expose. Their attack is malicious, not a direct critique but an unrelenting treason. Tiqqun state that this approach is necessary due to the nature of the war in hand at the time of their writing, as one paradoxically total and invisible. The terms of capitalism’s dominance have been achieved through the service of the commodity; citizens are integrated into this regime by their very molecules through the process of consumption. It is through this process that late capitalism has been able to colonise all desires and emotions, and every arena of life, including the Social. Resultantly, Tiqqun state that we mustn’t plan for the revolution; we should instead become unseen ourselves, investing in ‘molecular revolutions.’ The Young-Girl is a blanket term descriptive of the state of the consumer body. Every citizen living under consumer capitalism is young-girlified, meaning it is not a specifically gendered condition. (This is also the case for the Strange-Girl: anyone can invoke her so that she may duel with the Young-Girl within their body). However, a special podium is reserved for those who are both girl and Young-Girl, as they are poached to be capitalism’s ‘model citizens’. The Young-Girl is also the exemplar avatar of late capitalism’s social life: plasticised, stretched and smiling. As both molecular infection and model citizen, the Young-Girl is a single girl, all girls, and is also non-human. Tiqqun make apparent the previously invisible imprint of the Young-Girl upon the body by deploying a tautological didacticism, repeating different versions of the same concept multiple times, relentless conceptual fragments beginning ‘The Young-Girl is’: The Young-Girl is the termite of the “material.” Through this tactic, Tiqqun perform the current war as molecular infection, eating the reader alive through these preying mantras. By grinding the reader into the Young-Girl’s position of subservience, Tiqqun simultaneously make apparent the presence of the Young-Girl within the reader’s own body. This awareness grows as the text develops; as it heightens, Tiqqun can be heard growling, in an undercurrent beneath every word. Their snarl imparts a critical distance: The Young-Girl is Tiqqun’s ‘vision machine’. Tiqqun’s writing is viscerally oral, toothsome, expectorant, and wholly tongue in cheek. Each phrase is spat out, bitten, or said through gritted teeth. Theirs is a gnashing cruel mouth that hates what has been done to it – it is possible to feel the enamel burning off your own teeth as you read. This sneer emits from the pages of Theory of the Young-Girl as if a noxious gas. Ariana Reines has stated that the process of translating the text made her feel sick: ‘working on it was like being made to vomit up my first two books, eat the vomit, vomit again, etc., then pour the mess into ice trays and freeze it, and then pour liquor over the cubes.’ Tiqqun grinds its reader into the Young-Girl’s position of subservience, while concurrently getting them high off the potency of its fumes. This haptic snarl and narcotic nausea is the condition of the Strange-Girl’s body – a will to feel something, against the condition of living through representation, a shock-tactic antidote to the cool flannel of the Young-girl. As Tiqqun expound with the two-timing toxic atmosphere of their manifesto – to fight an extreme dogma it is vital to also speak radically and with direction. The Strange-Girl accords to the language of this necessary dogmatism, as a reaction to the stagnation of the Young-Girl and the increasing frustration of girls. The Young-Girl wants us to believe there is nothing new (settle down and accept your fate). Tiqqun state emphatically that this is not true. The Strange-Girl acts with the full force of this knowledge: embedded in her body is the promise of lightning. The Strange bends reality, warping the terms and conditions of the already-existing; it unsettles the very matter of things. The Strange is not necessarily the thing itself, rather it is the presence of something else. It is the movement or change in conditions preceding the appearance of a thing as yet unknown. The Strange twists the ground, causing everything to feel uneasy, uncertain and open to change. The Strange makes you aware that something else is coming, it is the gaining of momentum that signals a presence in waiting. Embedded in the condition of the Strange then, is the making of a threat, and in that threat, the possibility of a climax, of this something else coming to the fore. The Strange-Girl is born from the venom of Tiqqun’s tongue; she sparks from the raising of their hackles, and comes into being in the chasm of critical distance that their text engenders. As such, she always exists in a moment of ‘first sight’. She is a tool to both maintain Tiqqun’s critical vision, and use it within the Girl-body in order to threaten the most vivid and coercive embodiment of late capitalism’s ideals. The Strange-Girl is thus generated sequentially from the ‘vision machine’ of the Young-Girl as a ‘vital mode’ – an essential tool for orientation and movement in aim of resisting the puppetry of the Young-Girl. Tiqqun themselves make a call to arms: ‘some will use it [the Young-Girl] to account for the massive character of hostile occupation forces in our existences, others, more vigorous, will use it to determine the speed and direction of their advance.’ This text accords to the latter of these propositions. Now is a time for action. Since the time of Tiqqun’s writing, the conditions of capitalism have become increasingly polarized and hyperbolic, an informational glut causing a deathly exposure that welcomes blindness. Coming up next: a series of ‘biting points’ where the Strange-Girl and the Young-Girl may come into contact inside the Girl-body. These are points at which the Strange-Girl may twist the terms of the Young-Girl, and accelerate away from her. This is a theory and a practical scheme for those who desire a means for resistance within their own body. Under the lore of the Spectacle everything must be seen so that it can be known and assimilated. This all-seeing agenda ensures an image of total control: nothing is left lurking in the shadows (or so they think). To retain this order everything is objectified, and given a signification that is set in stone. This prescribed identity provides the terms and conditions by which citizens understand their worth. It is the task of subjects to stringently adhere to these terms so as not to lose their value – they must engage in ‘a lifelong project to become compatible with Empire.’ As the most naturalised of capitalism’s constructions, the Young-Girl is entrusted with the most natural of assignments. Her task? That of spilling her guts: the full and violent disclosure of the interior. The value of the Young-Girl lies in the myth of the unique immediacy of her feelings. As Tiqqun state: ‘Don’t confuse your job with your feelings!’ For the Young-Girl these things are one in the same; she is capitalism’s feeling machine, ordered to express her internal state to a greater extent than ordinary citizens. The Young-Girl effigy must perform her insides for her audience: entertainment at the service of distraction and proof that capitalism has a heart. This must be done convincingly, so that subjects can look to her and be assured of belonging to an emotional and therefore ethical world, meaning that no other form of encounter between citizens is sought. The Young-Girl is the embodied will of capitalism to nullify all potential: ‘no less fundamentally than a commodity, the Young-Girl constitutes an offensive neutralization apparatus.’ Contained in the droplet of the Young-Girl’s tear is the entire administration of late capitalism’s social life. This is the pinnacle of capitalism’s will for everything to be seen in the glare of its eye: ‘The Young-Girl epitomizes nothingness, the paradox, and the tragedy of visibility.’ If you breathe onto the Young-Girl, a heart can be drawn with your finger in the condensation on her skin, gaining a clear window through to precisely nothing. The violent demands for externalisation made upon the girl, determine the twist in her body from Young to Strange. This change in orientation occurs at the point when she can stand it no more. Rather than speaking candidly on camera, the Strange-Girl instead decides that she will keep herself to herself. Further to this, not only will she retain her internality, but she will let capitalism know that this is what she is up to. At the moment of decision, the move made within the girl is from being an unconditionally known thing, to being knowing. To be knowing is to retain information, whilst making an audience aware that you are doing so. (It doesn’t matter what this information is, it is more the process of keeping something from you that is pertinent here). In this, a tactic is found through which to reclaim and retain the internal space that is crucial to the maintenance of capitalism’s current programme. Not only this, it is an active irritation to its eye: a frustration which induces an instability in its framework. The domain of this knowing quality can be imagined as embedded in the chest, in the space that the Young-Girl is forced to expose – the space of the heart. This knowing, then, is the power source of the Strange-Girl. The form this space takes may be given image as a burr or piece of pollen, or a sphere made from dense black soundproofing material. It is of a different molecular structure to the rest of the flesh. Noise bounces off it, but sound is still possible within its walls. This form is a thing at once open and closed. It is closed to the eye of capitalism, but retains a porous quality, meaning the energy of the things known can emit outward, through the molecules of the body into the molecules of the air. The archaic word ‘enceinte’ may be attributed to this form: an enclosure or the enclosing wall of a fortified place. This spatial manifestation should not be considered akin to Julia Kristeva’s reading of the ‘chora’, the internal location of a pre-signifying state. This knowing does not pre-exist, it is a thing built from experience and reaction – it is a reanimated space. By retaining her internality, keeping something closed and moving inside herself, the Strange-Girl manifests as a potent body. Thoughts are retained inside her and so exist at the fullest height of their power. The Young-Girl is irrevocably empty – she is a void that has lost possession of her own desires and potential, becoming instead a vessel in which plastic concepts float – while the Strange-Girl is a body charged with energy. As Tiqqun state: ‘The Young-Girl is the void that THEY maintain in order to hide the vividness of the void.’ Turning from the body to the face of the Strange-Girl, the quality of knowing may be imagined as emitting from her eyes, the intimate internal movements of the information being retained communicated through these surface circles. Her pupils may be thought of as having their own swirling current, which bores into the eye of capitalism, confronting it. Knowing is also expressed via her mouth. The facade of the Young-Girl is maintained by her smile, she is forced to welcome capitalism and its subjects to know everything about her: ‘The Young-Girl is resentment that smiles.’ This smile however, also performs a surplus: when she smiles spit pours through her teeth. The Young-Girl’s smile is a turbulent excessive one, over which she has no control. The Strange-Girl may twist this grimace to a grin. A grin is an outward expression that she knows something you don’t know. It mocks capitalism for this fact, through malicious teeth. This grin tells capitalism that right under its nose, other possibilities for existence are being built. The Strange-Girl’s knowing quality renders her an object, but only in the archaic sense. Archaic objects like rocks, totems and pyramids are markers of something gone before, hanging in the future and in possession of their own logic. These are objects that perform a push-pull relation. Fascination leads to the gravitational pull of interaction, yet the Strange-Girl also pushes things forward, energy emitting away from her in waves. You know she holds something – a hidden power – and her energetic will to share it with other Strange-Girls causes a radiation outward. The Strange-Girl has the energy of an archaic object; she is charged, ‘attracted by certain bodies, repulsed by others.’ This creates new spaces for encounter, in spite of capitalism’s plan. Imagine yourself facing another body, your eyes boring into theirs. Both sets of eyes are the size of dinner plates, with pupils that are swirling: tiny black seas with circular currents. The air is moving in a circle around your two bodies, generating a humming enclosure of air. This is a moment of encounter experienced as if in slow motion, enacted with both total awareness and total presence from each party: you only have eyes for each other. In this moment we experience a strange kinship, an electro-pull of the energy between bodies, a being-together as close as possible, whilst retaining an individual corporeality. To the Spectacle what occurs has no rhyme or reason, because none of it is externalised. It doesn’t mean anything and so it closes its eyes, or else it stares until its eyes bleed and it has to turn away. This space may be thought of as a pitch too high for the ear to hear, existing within the dominant landscape, but on its own terms. The bodies thus achieve a presentness within the reality of the Spectacle, but in a guise that is unrecognisable to it. Moving from this relation between two bodies, the group dynamic of the Strange-Girl is a constellation of bodies connected by a telepathic beat. The anatomy of a Strange-Girl gang may be thought of as the trees in a wood, which together make a dense space in which the edge cannot be seen, and whose living is marked by rings growing outward from their internal core. These rings extend from bark into the air as vibrating strings of invisible particles. Rather than the Young-Girl, who is characterised by a pack of self-orientated singularities – a hyper-individualistic doubling over into nothingness on repeat – the relation of Strange-Girls is horizontal and upward-facing. The woods are both a closed and open space; they are potent because everything in them is alive. The Young-Girl is the living personification of capitalism’s ideal conditions. Tiqqun state: ‘changes in the Young-Girl’s form symmetrically follow the evolution of capitalist modes of production.’ This is inclusive of its temporal status. The image of the twentieth-century Young-Girl – an idol – was preserved on celluloid film; narrative cinema the perfect expression of Industrial Capitalism’s will for a linear temporality, this compelling belief in the equally linear progression of its regime. The image of today’s Young-Girl is not a still photograph or narrative composition. Instead, she manifests in a plethora of reifications across multiple digital platforms: a stream of flickering images that renders the temporality of late capitalism turbulent. Rather than the quantity of these images generating belief in the Young-Girl’s immutability, it instead becomes apparent that these images have simply been placed on repeat – a frantic longing for the stability of linear time. This is the desperation of the Young-Girl as engine: ‘The Young-Girl advances like a living engine, moved by and moving towards the Spectacle.’ Because she knows she is about to be discovered as a fake, as a repetition, she pedals away out of fear (it is always better, the Young-Girl tells herself, to just keep going). As Tiqqun write: ‘Among Young-Girls there is a community of gesture and expression that is anything but moving.’ In Capitalist Realism: Is There No Alternative?, Mark Fisher writes that capitalism will not go out with a bang, it will wink out, unraveling and gradually falling apart. The wink is the Young-Girl’s final act of seduction – a flutter of the eyelid that she can stick on repeat. It is also the gesture of an in-joke, the wink of the Strange-Girl letting you know that everything is not as it seems. On the one hand, if a light flickers it is a sign that the power is about to go out. While on the other – in the genre of horror for example – a flickering light is the signifier of an imminent attack. Tiqqun write that ‘the Young-Girl’s laughter rings with the desolation of nightclubs.’ Within the rhythmic high-tempo cracks of flickering strobe lights, the Young-Girl dies out while the Strange-Girl bombinates into being. This flickering sensation signals the final moments of the Young-Girl’s life as it flashes before her eyes: ‘Empire is in fact civilization’s last stop before it reaches the end of its line, the final agony in which it sees its life pass before its eyes.’ Seeing that the Young-Girl has almost exhausted herself, the Strange-Girl takes her chance to seize power. The flickering image is a point where the Young-Girl and the Strange-Girl graze one another. As the Young-Girl fragments, breaking down, the Strange-Girl takes her chance to regain momentum, up. (The Young-Girl is a car tyre spinning until the grip has almost entirely worn down; the Strange-Girl, the smell of burning rubber). This is a reanimation of the Young-Girl’s wretched repetition as the imminent and ragged rage of the Strange-Girl. The flicker causes a feeling of unease, signaling a change, the feeling that something is at its end. This is a jarring, a jamming of stable optics and stable time, and stable conditions for knowledge. The fast pace of the flicker affects a seizure, making a death threat to the Young-Girl. Its duration causes everything to become unstuck, frames lost and blackness burgeoning, everything existing in a flickering broken flux. This flickering cannot go on forever, something must be about to happen. The Young-Girl is a construction. Despite how natural she may seem: she is not real. Inherently, constructions are ciphers of the fear of nothingness and are created out of this anxiety. Once built, the possibility of their destruction stands embedded within their form. The persistent presence of the Young-Girl therefore acts as living proof that the regime is both resplendent and real. As Tiqqun state, in the total nihilism of capitalism: ‘all notion of grandeur or prestige would have disappeared long ago, if they hadn’t been immediately converted into Young-Girls.’ The friction generated from the flickering image of the Young-Girl causes heat to rise. Her teeth start chattering and she begins to foam at the mouth. The surface of her skin begins to effervesce and crumble: ‘The Young-Girl is entirely constructed. This is why she can also be entirely destroyed.’ Tiqqun equate the body of the Young-Girl with the very form of capitalism: ‘The Young-Girl is a reality as massive and crumbly as the Spectacle.’ Both are constructions, with the stability of her body acting as a barometer by which the success of capitalism is measured; or at least, the success of its facade. Thus, by destroying the Young-Girl, capitalism may also begin to be destroyed. To begin with the destruction with its most natural propaganda, would set other destructions in motion. Our concern should not then be the burning of building sites, but the burning of the Young-Girl. In the period since Theory of the Young-Girl was published, the prevalent state of the Young-Girl has been one of breakdown; Young-Girls who are finding it all too much recorded on a global stage. These Young-Girls breaking down makes visible that, under increasingly hyperbolic forces, her facade and model for existence cannot be sustained. Capitalism laughs at the Young-Girl from its media outlets, in order to alienate her from its regime so that they may say that she has lost control of herself and that it is not to blame: ‘the charms we no longer find in the Young-Girl are the exact measure of what we have already managed to liquidate in her.’ This recording of her breakdown ensures that Young-Girls who have begun to ‘self-destruct’ never truly leave the spotlight, and so can never become emancipated from it or indeed be remembered with nostalgia – they are not allowed the melancholic respite of the twentieth-century ‘Idol Girl’. This is pasty high-definition loss that is both immediately superseded and hard to delete. The Young-Girl only knows herself through the value of her image, and so engages in desperate attempts to regain entry into the system through production of her own images: ‘The Young-Girl becomes demonetized when she goes out of circulation. When she loses the possibility of re-entering the marketplace, she begins to rot.’ However, the more images the Young-Girl creates of herself, the less sovereign she becomes. It damages her body, as she is squeezed to death by capitalism trying to extract the very last drop of her visual worth. Paradoxically, this means that at this moment she is also brighter than ever. Excess speaks of desperation as much as it does of dominance. A media frenzy surrounds her, creating the feeling that she might begin to foam at the mouth at any moment. Out of these ‘hot messes’ comes the burning heat of the Strange-Girl; their crumbling texture allows the Strange-Girl to accelerate, and find the forces of her form. The Young-Girl is caught in an unceasing self-referential cycle, in which she is required to look back on her body at all times. This obsession with her exterior dooms her to cannibalism (it ends with her backed into a corner, reduced to the squish of her matter, chewing on her own mouth). The reaction of the Strange-Girl to this fact, is the determination that she will never look back: she will exist forever facing forwards. This positioning enables her to escape the neuroses of the body once and for all, and the reduction to reformulate herself through reflection and representation. Imagining further, the Strange-Girl may manifest as having no physical body at all, because in a state of facing forward she cannot see her body. This means she will never get caught up in herself, never get tangled in her own reflection. She only has eyes for capitalism, her target, and the lightning up ahead. Furthermore, the Strange-Girl does not have a body because she is only known through your experience of being inside her. Therefore, her form may be imagined as comprising only the sensations and forces of matter. She is composed of baited breath, bared teeth, the stamp of feet, bristling skin and a pair of determined eyes looking out. The Strange-Girl is an entirely haptic being, opposing the diminished smooth shell of the Young-Girl’s body. In the body of the Strange-Girl you are given a direction. This is vital in a time of unstable ground and painful extremes, in which it may be easier and more appealing to accept the embrace of the Young-Girl. In the flash of a camera, the pull of forces backward and forward – Young and Strange – fight in the body of the Girl. The flash is both an attempt to capture and preserve her as Young-Girl, pulling her towards its glare, and also the spark of ecstatic brightness that pushes her forward: the catalyst which spurs the Strange-Girl towards what she can see up ahead. This flash of light provides a split-second in which a shift in power can occur. The flashbulbs and neon lights of consumer capitalism turn ‘psychedelically eerie’ under the terms of Strange-Girl – a re-weaponising of capitalism’s growth fetish. The Strange-Girl is spawned in the moment of the camera flash; in it, her form is generated, and so she may be imagined as moving in flashes of light which slice through the air. This ‘coming out of nowhere’ is also a power afforded to witches, who may appear or disappear in puffs of smoke lit by sparks. To imagine this ability we may also turn to cartoonic physics, which allow characters the remit to appear suddenly from nothing. The Young-Girl is is utterly predictable and reproducible to an exact mimesis; she likes everything to be known, expected and the same, mimicking originality to sate any desire for it: ‘the Young-Girl hates the unexpected, especially when it is not programmed.’ The ability to come out of nowhere therefore allows the Strange-Girl the element of surprise: her target will not see her coming. The Strange-Girl thus comes into being as a phenomenon, such as an aurora. Phenomena are things that appear without logic or reason and therefore, without a function in the eye of capitalism. They are autonomous things that simply are: they are not in the business of representing themselves. In a circus poster from the mid 1960s, ‘Strange Girls’ are proclaimed as a freak being. The poster questions: Can they – Marry like other girls? Have Children? Be as happy as they are? Why were they born? By appearing instantaneously without warning, the Strange-Girl has no visible process of being birthed, and therefore cannot be given a trajectory of becoming, and so cannot be appropriated, or held still (your hands will only grasp at air if you try and catch her). This makes her feel imminent. Deleuze writes on the plane of immanence: ‘No more than the transcendental field is defined by consciousness can the plane of immanence be defined by a subject or an object that is able to contain it. [...] A life is the immanence of immanence, absolute immanence: it is complete power, complete bliss.’ Because of her lack of subjectivity but an absolute retention of agency, coupled with her condition of facing forward, the Strange-Girl takes shape as a force. A force is an invisible and molecular power, the perfect form to fight the total war. The Strange-Girl is not necessarily invisible, but acts through particles with the power of invisibility. This enables her to evade the eye of the Spectacle, but being completely imperceptible is not her total will. She cannot be completely invisible, because the Strange-Girl is built for contact. Rather, she chooses when she is seen. She is always felt as a presence, one that could appear at any moment. In this sense, the Strange-Girl is an ‘unobservable’, a thing whose existence, properties, qualities and relations are not directly observable to the human eye. Typical examples of unobservables include atomic particles, gravity, causation, beliefs and desires. These are things with their own lexicon, their own sense of power, connection and time. Unobservables are similar to Kant’s conception of ‘Noumena’ which are things in themselves; raw things in an unnecessarily unknowable state, before they pass through the formalizing apparatus of the senses in order to become perceived objects. According to Kant, humans can never know noumena. However, it should be noted that the Strange-Girl is not the thing before or the thing repressed. Rather, she is the reanimation of this raw thing, afterwards and ahead of logos. She is a hidden variable – a volatile element. In the face of increasingly hyperbolic forces there is a need for extreme forms of presence. The Strange-Girl is akin to potent objects, turbulent chemicals, and natural disasters: things which themselves are propelled by force. They cannot be reasoned with, they cannot be stopped. The Strange-Girl does not have a body, she is only known by the sensations of molecules, by the vibration of their potential. She is an invisible force that rattles the body – she is raw energy. The vital mode of the Strange-Girl is a force for action, which may now take form within your body. Repeat this incantation after me (say it once, say it fast) The Strange-Girl is WIDE AWAKE. She is a friction burn, a GRAZE. She is PURE CHEEK. The Strange-Girl is the rising blood of a bruise. She is the stirring of the atmosphere. She is the black spot on your palm. The Strange-Girl is the radical feeling of getting too close and having nothing to lose. “If I were you...” her tongue licks. The Strange-Girl is a burnt tongue. She is too hot to handle (a menace). She is the rattle of a cage, an asteroid entering the atmosphere. She is scorched earth. “I can see you” she GRINS. Chemical agents dissolve on her tongue. The Strange-Girl could tear away at any moment, and she will. She has never been more certain that she will not listen to reason. She steps forward, and breaks into, a run. All to be seen is the back of her head. “Never look back”: her motto. The Strange-Girl has never looked in a mirror, NOT ONCE. She is the ringing in your ears. She is the element of surprise. Blood secretes, it glistens through the gaps in her teeth. If the Strange-Girl speaks it is only to utter two words: “You’re Next.” The Strange-Girl will wipe that smile off your face. She is a daylight robbery. She is a beam of light. She is the sensation of seeing your own blood. The Strange-Girl is the too-bright of high summer. The light of the Strange-Girl is a razor (it will cut you up). The thought of the Strange-Girl waiting in line to articulate her dissatisfaction is UTTERLY LAUGHABLE. The Strange-Girl is a menacing cloud hanging overhead. She is a dark red miasma. She is a blast furnace (from her, shapeless and unstoppable liquid hot steel will pour). The Strange-Girl is the prickle on the back of your neck. She is what you have been waiting for. The Strange-Girl makes a promise to you: SOON.