every morning i am a little girl; i get up, eyes wide open, and everything starts all over again. first i go to the window to stick my tongue out at death. i've tricked her. and everyday i steal from her. she sprawls outside, eyeless, mouthless, shapeless, pitiful giant dragging herself over the city and the country, over animals and peoples, gorged, spoiled, but still tormented by desire.

hélène cixous
inside