So there it is, three bodies, celestial bodies, bent in their paths by gravity, spinning out time around the sun. They are under the influence of the stark physics of attraction and repulsion, the equilateral sadness of indifference and desire. And each discrete body is built around its own discrete mind, crowded with words, ideas, contradictions. One would think there would be hardly room for all that tar-sticky iciness called shame.
"This journal is not a mere literary diversion. The further I progress, reducing to order what my past life suggests, and the more I persist in the rigor of composition--of the chapters, of the sentences, of the book itself--the more do I feel myself hardening in my will to utilize, for virtuous ends, my former hardships. I feel their power." --Jean Genet
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