I thought I knew her, but of course I didn’t. I had formed an imaginary companion from the few facts I possessed and projected them onto her languorous blonde body. I treated that person as if she were my image of her. Her horror was understandable. But could it be forgiven!
I felt I had come into contact with her. But of course that was a delusion. It was no more than courtesy on her part to even acknowledge that it was her I intended to reach. But such courtesy is intolerable!
I thought I found my way around her vagina. But that was as much a deception as all the rest. That brackish flesh could no more be her than anything else I imagined. She stared at me with an acquiescence that barely concealed indifference.
Is this the true source of ancient worship? To reach into a woman to find – yourself?!