maybe the only goods that charlie was trying to sell were ticket toss a dmx -- tickets to a dmx concert. maybe i misjudged him calling me sweetheart as patronizing when he really just was trying to be nice because he didn't know my name. maybe i cried because i was still getting used to the city environment, not because i thought he was going to hurt me. the more excuses i made for him, the less trusting i became of my body and my own instincts. and that sniper tower, it is still there. i do not acknowledge it now when i walk by. i keep my head low and my headphones nestled against my ear. i walk in a fashion similar to that of all the other black women with whom i cross paths every night as i return to my apartment. i wonder what kind of secrets they are holding in their bodies, what kind of experiences they have buried to protect someone else at their own expense, whom they can run to for help. thank you. >> you can watch this and other programs online at booktv.org. >> you're watching book with tv on c-span2, television for serious readers. here's our prime time lineup. first up, ros