I had reached the nothing, and the nothing was living and moist. It was then — it was then that as if from a tube the matter began slowly oozing out of the roach that had been crushed.The roach’s matter, which was its insides, the thick, whitish and slow matter, was coming out as from a tube of toothpaste. Before my nauseated and seduced eyes, the shape of the roach began slowly modifying as it swelled outward. The white matter slowly spilled atop its back like a burden. Immobilized, it was bearing atop its dusty flanks the weight of its own body. “Scream,” I calmly ordered myself. “Scream,” I repeated uselessly with a sigh of deep quietude. The white thickness had halted atop its scales. I looked at the ceiling, briefly resting the eyes that I felt had become deep and large. But if I screamed even once, I might never again be able to stop. If I screamed nobody could ever help me again; whereas, if I never revealed my neediness, I wouldn’t scare anybody and they would help me unawares; but only if I didn’t scare anybody by venturing outside the rules.
What do You think about The Passion According To G.H.?
