feminism's

working well female

and just in the delicate turn of presence.. Go to page. half And Emina goes through the phases of life. Submissive, all together, she counts the hours, the days, the long periods, confident that the hour of freedom will escape her. Why is my street so cold? Why, and I have just crossed the last part of the path? Pressed by the reflections on the mysterious task composed and by the conviction that this very trodden and dreary path that she follows is not yet hers and that it has been imposed on her, she looked at the screen on which the balance sheet of her life began. She saw an abyss of swirling considerations and feelings and a heart on which was placed a woodcut. She seemed to be a miserable interesting joker who attacks the climate. She was a worker who modestly queued to get a little karma. Perhaps he is a passenger who asks for what is given gently to others. The jewel of constant experience hanging around her neck has turned into a rope that is tightening more and more, preventing her from inhaling, from thinking, from living. Crushed and deeply aware of the reality that has led everyone to perceive how thin the line is between affection and disdain, authentic and astonishing, and that it is so natural to contact the other side of reason, she has chosen to take control of her life. She has left the line and will no longer respect it. He will not dwell on satisfaction, but will go on an excursion to seek it. The choice is hers. Besides, there may be no more line for her for now. Anything more will not be tolerated! She has spent about 50% of her time on earth trying to be essential to others, the other half will belong to her alone. So, in the quest for the importance of presence, it was divided into two sections. With the first, what it was and the second, what is now, similar to a broken and stuck mirror, made to see 1,000 faces but only one is valid, embarks on a dubious excursion through the last part of the journey of the stage. of life, with the promise not to think about it. *** May 25, 2001, 8:00 a.m. Emina is preparing for a short excursion. She has gone on a trip, by vehicle, to spend the day. Spring has aroused the desire for change, for development. She yearns for air, sun and opportunities. She has gone alone, with practically no explanation to anyone, and with the need to organize herself. She has stayed away from everyone. She needed to be separated from everyone. To keep herself away from individuals, he has no idea and he must accompany them. He often asks himself: How could I bear the presence of such individuals? It is each a question of connections

currently manufactured, level of proximity, level of contempt, of com-

grasping and aversion. However, a look can be a torment, a dis-

cussion can be torturous and some choices can be practically mortal-

such. She went on an excursion for one reason only, to be removed

of everyone. 8:30 The vehicle stopped at the entrance to a town, a few

meters before a small house yet protected. Here is your samoje! Current-

ment, she herself looks for a jack-of-all-trades in the city and knocks on doors

individuals. He glances at the city, at the vehicle, at the house, at himself-

even, desperately, weakly. in Where would it be advisable for me to go? All

well considered, for what reason would it be advisable for me to leave? All streets

are composed of privileged glimpses. Labyrinths of lifestyles. Are you going?

Each of the paths follows various predeterminations. The one we have chosen

Is it meant for us? Woman of destiny. We must accept that we have it

chosen. It may be simpler for us. And is it general-

ment the case? We have to leave, we can't come back. There is no

remedy. What we have done, we have done. Or else our ways are written

in some mysterious and grandiose information books. Our streets are es-

sentinels to a labyrinth. To escape the darkness, long periods of

search, meandering and returning to the start ensue. Many become exhausted

and give up. Then you dig new streets, create alternate paths-

natives, but there is no light, so there is no light. Some flashes

of light in the darkness give the deceptive impression that you have discovered

green a path, but when you get to the source you see that it is a

fascinating and delicate play of light, which he played with you and bamboozled you. There is

has no chance of getting out. He leans against the vehicle. She contemplates the inevitable

depression, especially since the day she left her lifelong companions.

We often need to be away from others and we stay alone when

we need someone the most. But the day she learned to commu-

fucking with herself, the secret frustration of all those left behind

stopped. It no longer irritated him that she didn't understand many people and

that they didn't understand her. Somehow, she was unable

to fit in, no matter how enthusiastically she tried. She hadn't

not really fit in with anyone. It's not quite the same as

others. In one way or another, a large part of themselves. Moreover,

she endured, but there could be no other solution. He has his own perspec-