Hello how are you?

Once broken, the hymen does not return: *I’m shackled by truth and beauty.* Unless the wound were to close in time. I won’t believe it, unless my children drown me, I won’t say anything about it; anyway my children are not there, they see nothing, they would not object, they would not object to my breaking in two unequal parts, on either side of what one might call… the unsteady centre of love, my love.