Коллекционер
Chapter 2
Theylookmucholderandyounger.Itsoundsimpossibleinwords.Butthat’sexactlyit.Iamolderandyounger.IamolderbecauseIhavelearnt,Iamyoungerbecausealotofmeconsistedofthingsolderpeoplehadtaughtme.Allthemudoftheirstaleideasontheshoeofme.
Thenewshoeofme.
Thepowerofwomen!I’veneverfeltsofullofmysteriouspower.Menareajoke.
We’resoweakphysically,sohelplesswiththings.Still,eventoday.Butwe’restrongerthantheyare.Wecanstandtheircruelty.Theycan’tstandours.
Ithink—IwillgivemyselftoG.P.Hecanhaveme.AndwhateverhedoestomeIshallstillhavemywoman-mehecannevertouch.
Allthisiswildtalk.ButIfeelfullofurges.Newindependence.
Idon’tthinkaboutnow.Today.IknowI’mgoingtoescape.Ifeelit.Ican’texplain.Calibancanneverwinagainstme.
IthinkofpaintingsIshalldo.
LastnightIthoughtofone,itwasasortofbutter-yellow(farm-butter-yellow)fieldrisingtoawhiteluminousskyandthesunjustrising.Astrangerose-pink,Iknewitexactly,fullofhushedstillness,thebeginningofthings,lark-songwithoutlarks.
Twostrangecontradictorydreams.
Thefirstonewasverysimple.Iwaswalkinginthefields,Idon’tknowwhoIwaswith,butitwassomeoneIlikedverymuch,aman.G.P.perhaps.Thesunshiningonyoungcorn.Andsuddenlywesawswallowsflyinglowoverthecorn.Icouldseetheirbacksgleaming,likedarkbluesilk.
