The Hour of the Star

by Clarice Lispector

Who hasn’t ever wondered: am I a monster or is this what it means to be a person?

even an animal has to deal with time.

I am not an intellectual, I write with my body.

I never forgot her: you never forget the person you slept with. The event remains tattooed with a fiery mark on living flesh and all who glimpse the stigma flee in horror.