She comprises a CV. A lengthy list of past events that are supposed to describe and comprise her self, her personality, mind and soul; utterly pointless and yet compelling retelling of factors, given as proof that after a long time, she finally is good enough, deserves it, she's served her years, paid her debts, given her due. She's done the boring part of life, she would like the fun, cool and interesting now, please - she's fucking earned it, proved her worth, made it this far, should be rewarded.

She comprises a CV, only to realize that it says everything and anything; that the interpretation is still unclear; that the jury is still out. She comprises is only to think that if she needs to comprise it in order to prove things, she is the one lacking faith, before others that might - and that's the only lack that truly counts, beyond the empty spots on the list, invisible too all and any, but her own unseeing eyes.