Let Us Become Human First

When I touch someone with my eyes, they want to touch me back with their hands. Their childishness amuses me greatly. But the moment I sit down to think clearly, I see—these are not the acts of a child at all. These are the acts of something less than human. Am I calling this filth childishness only to excuse it with the name of love?

How much more filth will I wrap in the garments of love and keep hidden? Will the man himself never know what a monster he is?

I wanted to embrace that man—I, transcending my womanhood, breaking free from my shell, driven by the fierce urge to become fully human. But he has no such urge in him. He has only desire.

So what now? Should I run away? But I have never fled from anyone, from anything.

Should I try to force him, grip him by the collar and make him into a human being rather than merely a man? No. I cannot use force.

If I explain it to him... will he listen? Or will he cry out instead, "Desire is the very nature of manhood!"?

Can I say to him, "There are so many men in this world, so many lovers too; the world needs only a handful of truly human beings"?

Can I not say, "Come, let us first become human together, you and I. Then, gradually, slowly, we can also become woman and man, lover and beloved..."