I want the face that is mine they fall into the sea which is the color of the bread she has nothing in her ears if I had the teeth of the man who died on my face I would bite the circle around her neck bite it away I know she does not like it now there is room to crouch and to watch the crouching others it is the crouching that is now always now inside the woman with my face is in the sea a hot thing
This is an excerpt taken from a LONG narrative of Beloved's other-world recollections. - -- This particular section is, frankly, beyond my ability to appreciate from a literary standpoint. The disjointed thoughts, lack of punctuation, and chaotic imagery are just...too much.
