the wild debris beyond the Green Wall, and some strange silver wreckage on a black background, dozing like the old woman and the slam of a door in the distance,—all this was within me, was listening to my pulse and soaring through the happiest of seconds.
In absurd, confused, overflowing words I attempted to tell her that I was a crystal and that there was a door in me, and that I felt how happy the armchair was. But something nonsensical came out of the attempt and I stopped. I was ashamed. And suddenly:
“Dear I-! Forgive me! I understand nothing. I talk so foolishly!”
“And why should you think that foolishness is not fine? If we had taken pains to educate human foolishness through centuries, as we have done with our intelligence, it might perhaps have been transformed into something very precious.”
Yes, I think she is right! How could she be wrong at that moment?
“... And for this foolishness of yours and for what you did yesterday during the walk, I love you the more, much more.”
“Then why did you torture me? Why would you not come? Why did you send me the pink check and make me—?”
“Perhaps I wanted to test you. Perhaps I must be sure that you will do anything I wish, that you are completely mine.”
“Yes, completely.”
She took my face, my whole self, between her palms, lifted my head: