Inseparable

by Simone de Beauvoir

I did a great deal of forbidden things: I ate apples in between meals, secretly took novels by Alexandre Dumas off the top shelf in the library. I had illuminating conversations with the tenant farmer’s daughter about the mystery of birth; at night, in my bed, I told myself bizarre stories that put me in strange moods.

Today something quite real had been at stake, and all logic fell apart in the face of the stubborn beliefs we held inside.

Zaza died because she tried to be herself and was convinced that such a desire was evil.