I Have Tried," I Said, "but He

They Say When Trouble Comes Close Ranks, And So The White People Did.

Soon He'll Come In Again And Kiss Me, But Differently. He'll Be Different And So I'll Be Different. It'll Be Different. I Thought, 'it'll Be Different, Different. It Must Be Different.

But Why Do You Want To Talk To Me?' He Is Going To Say: 'because You Look So Kind,' Or 'because You Look So Beautiful And Kind,' Or, Subtly, 'because You Look As If You'll Understand....' He Says: 'because I Think You Won't Betray Me.' I Had Meant To Get This Mean To Talk To Me And Tell Me All About It, And Then Be So Devastatingly English That Perhaps I Should Manage To Hurt Him A Little In Return For All The Many Times I've Been Hurt.... 'because I Think You Won't Betray Me, Because I Think You Won't Betray Me....' Now It Won't Be So Easy.

Before I Could Read, Almost A Baby, I Imagined That God, This Strange Thing Or Person I Heard About, Was A Book.

One Realized All Sorts Of Things. The Value Of An Illusion, For Instance, And That The Shadow Can Be More Important Than The Substance. All Sorts Of Things.