Ah, World!—you reliable old friend: I know you well.

     It took a long time for things to develop this far between us. When we used to speak in the beginning, all of your words were foreign, abrasive—alien, alienating.

     But now—now things are otherwise: our friendship has blossomed. Now I can barely recall why it wounded my pride so to see my face reflected in your eyes, my eyes in yours. Did it, even?—No, it was nothing more than the inevitable pain of intimacy, the caustic sting of the skin-to-skin.

     Here, though, we have reached our limit. Our relationship has been perfected—and I suppose it never could have been the perfect relationship. World!—you are a woman: Sister, Mother, secret lover, but never—a brother!