I had left Paris. I knew it. “I believe that he would bore me. There he sat, cheerfully friendly in his sex’s freedom—the man she loved, the one man she cared should unlock the way to the wide world for her imprisoned feminine possibilities, and he seemed regardless that she stifled under his eyes; he made a jest of all this passionate insurgence of the souls of women against the fate of their conditions. I have read that authors are very selfish and self-centred. ‘Get the swords!’ ‘I’ll see to him. His literary instincts were reviving. He was walking listlessly along, well-dressed, debonnair, good-looking. He met her eyes with his fiery black gaze. I see them hanging out in the halls together all the time. Here would be a woman perfectly unrecognizable, strong, ruthless but just.
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This video was uploaded to thenextfuture.net on 22-09-2024 07:55:11
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