"Well, the pendulum swung today and I thought, instead of my own body, of Mauriceâs. I thought of certain lines life had put on his face as personal as a line of his writing: I thought of a new scar on his shoulder that wouldnât have been there if once he hadnât tried to protect another manâs body from a falling wall. He didnât tell me why he was in hospital those three days: Henry told me. That scar was part of his character as much as his jealousy. And so I thought, do I want that body to be vapour (mine yes, but his?), and I knew I wanted that scar to exist through all eternity. But could my vapour love that scar? Then I began to want my body that I hated, but only because it could love that scar. We can love with our minds, but can we love only with our minds? Love extends itself all the time, so that we can even love with our senseless nails: we love even with our clothes, so that a sleeve can feel a sleeve."
simply perfection