If on a Winter's Night a Traveler

by Italo Calvino

If you want to, put your feet up; if not, put them back. Now don’t stand there with your shoes in one hand and the book in the other.

You are always a possible you. Who would dare sentence you to loss of the you, a catastrophe as terrible as the loss of the I. For a second-person discourse to become a novel, at least two you’s are required, distinct and concomitant, which stand out from the crowd of he’s, she’s, and they’s.)

“Yes, it is!” Sheila cries. “The body is a uniform! The body is armed militia! The body is violent action! The body claims power! The body’s at war! The body declares itself subject! The body is an end and not a means! The body signifies! Communicates! Shouts! Protests! Subverts!”