‘No, she told them softly from the bottom of her new truth, no… The faces turned to smoke, for she had always been. For her body had never needed anyone, it was free. For she had walked through the streets. She drank water, had abolished God, the world, everything…

…And with each instant she fell deeper and deeper into herself, into caverns of milky light, her breathing vibrant, full of fear and happiness at the journey, perhaps like falling in sleep. Her intuition that those moments were fragile made her move lightly afraid to touch herself, to stir up and dissolve that miracle, the tender being of light and air that was trying to live inside her.’

– Clarice Lispector, Near to the Wild Heart 

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