When all was dark and wet, I already knew I was not welcome. Then I came out, somebody held me and that black devil was waiting to hold me in her hands, the devil I had come out of. I protested and screamed in terror, but every baby screams. The black devil pulsated in a cloud of fluttering malice as it took me in her arms and filled my heart with ice. Had I had any hair, it would have stood up all over my body. I had to suck on her teat of sick skin, revulsed as I was. Had to swallow her toxic milk full of madness while all my senses protested; it was like drinking oil from the earth, more nourishing but less appetizing. I imagined myself as a spectator.
In this way I was introduced to the pretense of love.