“No, these little insects are not hers. They have been passed down from generation to generation, supporting the entire reputation of this distinguished lineage with their tiny armor—refined to the point of suffering.”
“What use is such beauty? Night after night, she sinks into despair, wishing she were an ordinary-looking woman or even a man; anything but this useless virtue!”
“Everyone thinks in their own way, everyone tries to offer the most logical explanation—or at least the most acceptable one—while at the same time, Mother runs desperately through every corridor of the mansion, calling her name.”
“And so, for the first time, she understood something: above all her virtues, there existed a metaphysical woman’s vanity.”
“Only then did she realize that three thousand years had passed since the day she first wanted to eat a citrus fruit.”