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No, she is caught in a great net made by her sex and the excessive height of her body,
No, Marie’s mother’s fault was that she was fetching and a fool, for she didn’t run fast enough.
It strikes her now that god must be most like the sun in the sky, which rises for the day and sleeps at night, endlessly renewing itself; and it is warm for it pours out its warmth and light, and yet at the same time it is coldly remote, for it continues on even as humans who equally fill the earth with life live and die, and it does not care either way, it does not alter its path, it does not listen to the noises on the earth beneath, it cannot stop to notice human life at all, it shakes off what absurd stories we try to pin to it and exists in calm as only itself, radiant and distant and
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Open your hands and let your life go. It has never been yours to do with what you will.
