The divine intelligence, if there was one, had a cruel sense of humor, waiting patiently until we had lost any concept of freedom, until we had become connoisseurs of our prison, until we had gone beyond resignation and had achieved wholesale emotional dependence on each other and on the feel of each other’s bodies, until we had turned our predicament into a philosophy and a cosmology, until we didn’t know anymore whether we wanted to stay or leave. Then it gave us a weakness in the wall.
