We Are Women. We Are A Subject

There Are Only Moments. Live In This One. The Happiness Of These Days.

Mystical State, Madness, How It Frightens People. How Utterly Crazy They Become, Remote, Rude, Peculiar, Cruel, Taunting, Farouche As Wild Beasts Who Have Smelled Danger, The Unthinkable.

The Concept Of Romantic Love Affords A Means Of Emotional Manipulation Which The Male Is Free To Exploit, Since Love Is The Only Circumstance In Which The Female Is (ideologically) Pardoned For Sexual Activity.

It Would Appear That Love Is Dead. Or Very Likely In A Bad Way.

What Is The Future Of The Woman's Movement How In The Hell Do I Know I Don't Run It.