48
" It doesn't seem like you're living a life, it's almost like you're travelling on a train with the destination unknown.
You're sitting on a seat near the window looking outside, imagining how things are there outside, how is it like to live in the houses that you pass by. And when you’re busy noticing the outside, you at times do not pay heed to your surroundings inside the coach.
And thus some passengers who got down at a station midway fail to capture your interest, or maybe it is because of your deviation of interest towards the outside. While at other stops new people get up, and you like their company, you share and you laugh.
But sooner or later they get down.
Because it's your journey, you're the traveler and they just accompany you for some distances.
And then, maybe when you reach your destination there will still be passengers in the train, passengers you've mingled with or passengers you hate, people who were there since the train had started or people who got in just before the last stoppage, and like it or not, they will get off the train with you, at your destination which also proved to be there destination. "
― Sanhita Baruah
49
" I was also one of those people who hadn’t caught up with the latest social networking site. Maura belonged to most of them. She passed most evenings befriending men who had tried to date-rape her in high school, but I was still stuck in the last virtual community, a sad place to be, like Europe, say, during the Black Death. Whenever I cruised this site, with its favorites lists and its paeans to somebody’s cousin’s gas station art gallery, I could not help but think of medieval corpses in the spring-thaw mud, buboes sprouted in every armpit and anus, black bile curling out of frozen mouths. Those of us still cursed with life wandered the blasted dales of this stricken network, wept and moaned and flogged ourselves with frayed AC adaptors, called out for God to strike us dead, or else let us find somebody who liked similar bands. "
― Sam Lipsyte , The Ask
50
" Inanna spoke:" What I tell youLet the singer weave into song.What I tell you, Let it flow from ear to mouth,Let it pass from old to young:My vulva, the horn,The Boat of Heaven,Is full of eagerness like the young moon.My untilled land lies fallow.As for me, Inanna,Who will plow my vulva?Who will plow my high field?Who will plow my wet ground?As for me, the young woman,Who will plow my vulva?Who will station the ox there?Who will plow my vulva?" Dumuzi replied:" Great Lady, the king will plow your vulva.I, Dumuzi the King, will plow your vulva." Inanna:" Then plow my vulva, man of my heart!Plow my vulva! "