Has anyone seen heels dancing with toes? or the right hand lying on the wound of the left hand? At night the sun and the moon take turns to rotate clockwise, but they are not meant for you to hear, see, or touch: they are for you to feel with your eyes closed. How difficult this must be—a wagon driver lost his horse going uphill, a law-abiding man grew vegetables and washed clothes in the sand, an actress had maintained her chastity and social status since the age of thirteen, a stubborn man afar was loving the malleable body of the night-blooming cereus, a mason started a new career in his late years, a mother was pregnant during her menopause, a poet cured his chemical imbalance by looking at his distorted self-portrait in a fun-house mirror, But who among you has seen my tiptoes? and the wound of my left hand? I have the normal appearance of you all— black hair, black eyes, an athlete's build and voice, but I have never told anyone about my hands and legs— what embarrassment they have caused my body.
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