i tortured myself with visions of her, imprisoned, struggling, trapped in a painful fantasy of her own making, or trapped in another fantasy, equally painful, which was not hers at all but those of the people around her. And when did the one become the other? Where was the threshold, between the inner world and the outer one? We each move unthinkingly between this gateway every day, we use the passwords of grammer - i say, you say, he and she say, on the other hand, does not say - paying for the privilage of sanity with common coin, with meanings we've agreed on.

Margaret Atwood 
26.1.07 19:53
 


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clare / Website (31.1.07 16:19)
 yes. well done jon, you are good.

thanks for hosting me this weekend. i enjoyed the porridge-shaped hospitality very much.

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