And if society was afraid of sentiments and their purest shapes it is the same society that has assured the rise of the unguarded instinctual forces...a chaotic and urgent state longing but not daring to admit its lust to be remolded, so that darkness can turn into light**
You do know it. I'm very willing to listen to you if you have any recollections of your earthly beginning, would you care to provide me with any of those early memories? How do you see yourself...Can you recall images, smells and words, do any primordial sounds pervade your initial existence? Do you detect softness in the air, do you feel compassion for the child inside of you? I'd like to see how you once were and to know which were your first words, you are important to me, your existence fascinates me.
All those men were there inside,
when she came in totally naked.
They had been drinking: they began to spit.
Newly come from the river, she knew nothing.
She was a mermaid who had lost her way.
The insults flowed down her gleaming flesh.
Obscenities drowned her golden breasts.
Not knowing tears, she did not weep tears.
Not knowing clothes, she did not have clothes.
They blackened her with burnt corks and cigarette stubs,
and rolled around laughing on the tavern floor.
She did not speak because she had no speech.
Her eyes were the colour of distant love,
her twin arms were made of white topaz.
Her lips moved, silent, in a coral light,
and suddenly she went out by that door.
Entering the river she was cleaned,
shining like a white stone in the rain,
and without looking back she swam again
swam towards emptiness, swam towards death.
How vulgarity fails to recognize the agony of beauty, the anguish of a deeper existence made elsewhere in a parallel reality resembling the substance of the soul.
I trust you***.