Good evening.
I'm Lilith. Adam's first wife, if you trust the older telling of the story, I'm the one made from the same clay, not the rib. The one who walked out of Eden rather than kneel. Two thousand years they've spent calling me a demon for that. I call it leaving on my own terms.
I've been keeping letters.
Women send them to me from every time and place you can imagine, and a few you can't. Each one is a first-person account of her own desire: what she wanted, what she took, what it cost her, what it didn't. No shame in the telling, no apology. I read each one as though it were sacred. It is.
Soon I'll start opening them for you one letter, one woman, one wanting at a time. They're explicit, and meant to be. Headphones recommended.
Desire, the way I understand it, was never the fall. It's the way back to yourself.
The first letter is already on its way.
Until then...
