I start my reading by going to the graveyard. Patchwork Girl lies here in many pieces, and I read about what each piece is and who it came from. There are many stories here; each body part could spawn a work as long as Patchwork Girl itself.
I read about carrying the pieces out of the graveyard, about a resurrection taking place. This isn't a holy resurrection, though. This is something dark and sinister, but that somehow makes it seem more like us.
This isn't the first time that this was one, but this time we aren't just recylcling body parts to create what was already made; we're making something completely new.
Patchwork Girl is 175 years old. She has lived even longer if you consider the sum of her parts. This is her story.
She was created for someone very much like herself, in a way that is eerily similar to the way God created Eve for Adam.
At least, this is what Mary would have us believe. In reality, she was created by Mary's pen. She is fiction turned real.
Her earliest memory is meeting Mary by a bridge. She resembles Mary, but in many ways they are different. They complement each other nicely as mother-daughter, except they are both the same age.
Now I read some stuff about traveling, and writing, and trying not to be seen, and I don't know who's talking. Is it Patchwork Girl, Mary, or the author? Maybe it's all three. Things get hazy here, but I like it anyway.
Hazy like Patchwork Girl ... I read a passage with Patchwork Girl (or the author? or this document? or hypertext in general?) describing herself as a "hazy whole", and I find this a fitting place to finish my reading.