“TODAY I THINK MY RELATIONSHIP WITH HELL IS OVER. It was hell, the ancient hell. Hell: I believed that if I loved V enough, we would love each other.
All I know is that I’ve been returned to earth violently; I’ve a duty to myself to survive and to see what is. I have to deal with the truth, with nothing else.
Did V’s charity to me almost cause my death?
I, starving, fed on the dream that V loved me and I lived a lie. So forgive me, You who knows that only truth matters.
Yes—this dawn is at best difficult.
The blood he let out of my skin, now dried and stiff, hurts me and there’s nothing else in my life but memories of him. Mental war is constant.
Nonetheless, this is the eve before the morning.
May I accept the influxes of vigor and whatever real tenderness floats by in these barren waters. And when dawn comes, armed with my patience which burns, I shall see the cities of humans which are splendid.
The imagination is nothing unless it is made actual.”


Я проснулась, начав читать ее. До этого я лениво перелистывала страницы другой книги, а когда взялась за эту - словно открылись глаза.
Но с произведениями Экер всегда так - я практически ору на себя за то, что читаю это, но все равно этого недостаточно, чтобы оторваться.
Кто ты и что ты со мной сделал.