We Look Too Much To Museums. The

I Was Looking For Myself And Asking Everyone Except Myself Questions Which I, And Only I, Could Answer.

I Feel The Need To Reaffirm All Of It, The Whole Unhappy Territory And All The Things Loved And Unloveable In It, For It Is All Part Of Me.

That Which We Remember Is, More Often Than Not, That Which We Would Like To Have Been; Or That Which We Hope To Be. Thus Our Memory And Our Identity Are Ever At Odds; Our History Ever A Tale Told By Inattentive Idealists.

I Felt That Even When They Were Polite They Hardly Saw Me, That They Would Have Begged The Pardon Of Jack The Bear, Never Glancing His Way If The Bear Happened To Be Walking Along Minding His Business. It Was Confusing. I Did Not Know If It Was Desirable Or Undesirable.

I Denounce Because Though Implicated And Partially Responsible, I Have Been Hurt To The Point Of Abysmal Pain, Hurt To The Point Of Invisibility. And I Defend Because In Spite Of It All, I Find That I Love.