Reaching out and putting my black hand on this cause there
may be some sacramental transubstantiation thing that happens if I do. Maybe
some will rub off on me.
“…my entire being seemed to run at
blind full tilt into something monstrous and immobile, with a shocking impact
too soon and too quick to be mere amazement and outrage at that black arresting
and untimorous hand on my white woman’s flesh. Because there is something in
the touch of flesh with flesh which abrogates, cuts sharp and straight across
the devious intricate channels of decorous ordering, which enemies as well as
lovers know because it makes them both:--touch and touch of that which is the
citadel of the central I-Am’s private own: not spirit, soul; the liquorish and
ungirdled mind is anyone’s to take in any darkened hallway of this earthly
tenement. But let flesh touch with flesh, and watch the fall of all the
eggshell shibboleth of caste and color too.”
William Faulkner, Absalom,
Absalom!, p. 111-112
No comments:
Post a Comment