It's a VULVA... but it's not!

The Red Trench
Photo Courtesy: The Telegram

The first time I saw it I was still in highschool, visiting the campus to see some friends. I remember the thrill of the glass elevator and riding up to see the whole thing.

The Red Trench… I took the name seriously. Trenches, to me, spoke of war trenches. I decided it was a blood soaked trench of war and the white v-shaped crest at the top was a dove – the symbol of peace – with its head buried in the trench. Was it backing out of the trench, distancing itself but with an eye on the atrocities of the past? Or was it venturing in, attempting to cleanse it?

Neither, it turns out. Apparently I have a bit of an imagination when it comes to interpreting art. But not as much of an imagination as some.

“Do you know what it is?” a boy (I’d say man, but 15 years later, by all reports, he’s still not mature enough to be called that) asked with a snigger, in my first year at MUN. I was embarrassed. I didn't know what it was, really. Just my own interpretation. So I shook my head no.
“A vagina” he answered.
“No it’s not.”
“It is. Everyone  knows it.”