Читать книгу The Confessions Of A Concubine онлайн

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That is what I am, mocked, deprived of all dignity, kneeling at the altar of the wishes of others.

Constrained

Forced into cramped spaces that are ill-suited to my desire for freedom.

At the end of each day, all that remains is a piercing sensation of emptiness inside me, almost

as if they had stolen my viscera.

And hope to still have the desire to escape and not listen to anything any more, and forget this torment that never leaves me.

At night I daydream of being able to break free of the bonds that I have allowed to be knotted around me, and be able to do without them. Be able to do without what little I am shamefully able to get by pleading.

Mine is a one-way life, the dichotomy between giving and receiving, between the agonizing desire to live and the existence that saps away moment by moment, in the vain attempt to have my life back, the way I wanted it.

And no answer from the void full of people that surrounds me.

Thus I have learned at take refuge in the solitary universe of colorless days.