I Will Tell You What Jeanne Was

Mother Is In Herself A Concrete Denial Of The Idea Of Sexual Pleasure Since Her Sexuality Has Been Placed At The Service Of Reproductive Function Alone. She Is The Perpetually Violated Passive Principle; Her Autonomy Has Been Sufficiently Eroded By The Presence Within Her Of The Embryo She Brought To Term. Her Unthinking Ability To Reproduce, Which Is Her Pride, Is, Since It Is Beyond Choice, Not A Specific Virtue Of Her Own.

I Know That Whenever A Group Of Women Are Gathered Together, The Grandmother Always Makes A Phantom Appearance, Hovering Above Them.

Though I Still Turn Up My Coat-collar In A Lonely Way And Am Always Looking At Myself In Mirrors, They’re Only Habits And Give No Clue At All To My Character, Whatever That Is. The Most Difficult Performance In The World Is Acting Naturally Isn’t It? Everything Else Is Artful.

A Young Girl Would Go Into The Wood As Trustingly As Red Riding Hood To Her Granny's House But This Light Admits No Ambiguities And, Here, She Will Be Trapped In Her Own Illusion Because Everything In The Woods Is Exactly As It Seems.

The End Of Exile Is The End Of Being.