CHAPTER I
I was thirstyI was a country of queer forcerushing east to see the strangest side of twilightI was a woman in the usual wayI had no language but distress and dutyI have been taught to doubt my mother and fear traditionbut my queer tongue would not could not shut upThe afternoon sun seemed mightyand touched my arm with a delicate painA woman kneeling in self-surrender to the newweeping silver into great masses of greyness the cloudswhich ceaselessly walk and pause as though unmercifully urged onThrough the darkness I could see a stormy seaa strange mixture of movementsSomething slight and flickering seemed to mock my universal yesI asked what this all meantI struck a matchand its flame somewhere far off in the distance plungedSuddenly a faint and endless absencebegan beetling aroundthe howl that sweptthe ruined skyCHAPTER IIILet me begin with observationMy concern is with agencyI was satisfied with my bodyMy desire is my ownmy smile my ownI unsealed the seriousness of soundFreedom melted in the weatherworn abyssSome weird effect of shadowcould allow an opportunity to resistI took pleasure in disobeyingI determined not to compose myselfI suppose I was not unchangedI thought I felt desire kiss me with red lipsNever could I be a girl on her kneesI was a storm of a womantransformed with red lightheaving an imperious voiceforward into the dimness