200-09-7 - 3:53 p.m.
letter to a vivisectionist
it is because again and again you've reduced me to one of "them" - in attempts to protect yourself, you have measured me in terms of atoms and molecules, electrical impulses and chemical reactions, id, ego and superego (as if that explains a thing).
but i am not a collection of particles or bundle of psychological motivations, and i will not be explained away. i am a human being -the fundamental mystery of the universe; at once, entirely "natural," terrestrial in every way, and at the same moment completely inexplicable - a human being ("this and so much more")
i am a nymph; i am a fairy; a thing at once familiar and utterly alien. i am a woman and she will be apprehended in her totality, not elementalized, inventorized, and broken down into catagories that you feel you can master. not if you want her to remain that spirit that first made you cry with her beauty. like all living things woman dies in dissection. And the dismembered parts scattered on your counter are meaningless to explain the thing you destroyed.
in the end, all you will have is a glossy magazine advertisement and a bitter note that ends in good-bye.
