Chapter 6 Section VI

28 Baker's horrific words to Inma Junata were in such a low voice that those around them couldn't guess the tragedy that was happening right before their eyes.Inma Junata succeeded in repressing it; after Baker left her, she walked up the stairs, and at last she was alone, in the corridor leading to the empty room, and she realized that she would not even walk. . Half an hour later, the unaware photographer returned to their room to find her face down on the bed. "What's wrong?" She didn't answer. He sat down beside her and put his hand on her head.She shook it off as if touched by a snake.

"What the hell is going on?" He kept asking until she replied, "Please rinse your mouth, I can't stand the bad breath." He didn't have bad breath, he brushed his teeth very hard, and cleaned meticulously, he knew she was talking nonsense, but he still obediently went to the bathroom to do what she asked him to do. The thought of bad breath had not intruded into Inma Junata's mind for no reason, and the curse came from a recent but immediately repressed memory: the memory of Baker's bad breath.When she listened to his cursing in despair, she didn't have time to notice his breath, but an invisible observer on her body recorded this disgusting breath for her, and added a clear and specific comment: Men with bad breath don't think about it. Give it to a woman; no woman will give in; no woman will make him understand that he stinks and let him get rid of it.Under the swearing, she listened to this comment with pleasure and hope, for she knew that despite Baker's treacherous presence of beautiful women surrounding him, he hadn't had an affair in ages, and his bedside place was vacant .

While brushing his teeth, the photographer, romantic and down-to-earth, tells himself that the only way to change his girlfriend's bad mood is to have sex with her fast.He put on his pajamas in the bathroom, walked back to the bed with uncertain steps and sat beside her. He didn't dare to touch her, and asked again: "What's wrong?" She said ruthlessly and decisively: "If you can only say this stupid thing to me, I don't think there is any need to talk to you." She got up and went to the closet; opened the door to see which dresses she had hung inside; those dresses attracted her; vaguely but strongly aroused her desire not to let herself be kicked off the stage; wanted to return to the place where she was humiliated ; unwilling to admit failure easily; even if she failed, she had to turn it into a performance, so that she could show her hurt beauty and show off her arrogance of resistance.

"What are you doing? Where are you going?" he asked. "It doesn't matter where you go, what matters is not staying with you." "Tell me what's going on!" Inma Junata looked at the dress and said, "The sixth time," and I declare that she was right. "You did a great job," the photographer told her, deciding to ignore her mood: "We came to the right place. I thought your interview with Baker was a success. I ordered a bottle of champagne to the room." "You can drink and do whatever you want with whomever you like."

"What the hell is going on?" "The seventh time. It's over between me and you. It's over forever. I've had enough of the smell in your mouth. You're my nightmare. My nightmare. My failure. My shame. My insult. I Nausea. I must tell you. Roughly. Not to prolong my hesitation. Not to prolong my nightmare. Not to prolong this meaningless story." She stands, facing the closet, with her back to the photographer, calm and composed, with a thin and deep voice.Then she started undressing. 29 It was the first time she had undressed in front of him so completely without shyness, with complete indifference.This gesture means: Your existence, in front of me, has no, no importance at all; you are no different than a dog or a mouse here, and your eyes will not make my body respond in the slightest.I can do whatever I want in front of you; the most rude thing to do, I can throw up in front of you, wash my ears and ass, masturbate, and piss in front of you.You are an eyeless, earless, headless thing.My proud indifference is a cover for my wanton and shameless actions in front of you.

The photographer watches the lover's body completely transformed before his eyes: this body, until now simply and quickly dedicated to him, now rises before him like a Greek statue on a pedestal a hundred meters high.He is full of desires, this strange desire does not arouse the desire of the flesh, but fills the brain, only in the brain, this desire is the bewitching of thinking, thoughts that cannot be shaken off, mysterious madness, firmly believe that this body is the body in front of me , destined to fulfill his life, his whole life. She was aware of this bewitchment, this admiration sticking to her skin, and a wave of indifference rushed into her mind.She was also surprised, she had never experienced such a feeling.It is a coldness, like a passion, a heat wave, or an anger.For this indifference is really a passion; as the photographer's utter admiration and Baker's utter denial are two sides of the same fate she is fighting against; as Baker's brutal refusal to throw her back into the arms of her ordinary lover , the only thing that can resist this rejection is utter hatred for this ordinary lover.That's why she angrily denies the photographer, she wants to turn him into a mouse, turn the mouse into a spider, turn the spider into a fly, and turn the fly into another spiders eat.

She had changed into a white dress and decided to go downstairs to appear in front of Baker and the others.She was glad that she had brought a white dress, white being the color of the wedding, because she felt that this day was like her own wedding, a messy wedding, a tragic wedding without a groom.Under the white dress, she was wounded by unfairness, and she felt that unfairness made her great and beautiful, just like characters in tragedy become beautiful because of misfortune.She heads for the door, knowing that her ordinary lover in pajamas will follow her and pull her like a dog adoring her, and she will walk through the entire castle in this way, a combination of tragedy and comedy, a queen followed by a dog wild dogs.

30 But this man she despised like a dog surprised her.He blocked the door with an angry look on his face.Her tame willpower suddenly dried up.He was filled with a desperate desire to confront the beautiful woman who had unfairly humiliated him.He wasn't brave enough to slap her, beat her, throw her on the bed and rape her, but he felt compelled to do something irreparable, extremely nasty and rough. She was forced to stop at the door. "Ler me get through." "I won't let you through," he told her. "You no longer exist to me." "What, I no longer exist?"

"I do not know you." He let out an exasperated laugh. "You don't know me?" He raised his voice. "We only had one in the morning!" "I won't let you talk to me like that! Use words like that!" "You just used those words yourself this morning when you told me: fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!" "That was when I was still in love with you," she said uncomfortably. "But now those words are just obscene." "But we did it!" he yelled. "I won't let you say that!" "We did it last night, did it, did it

"stop!" "Why can you tolerate my body in the morning but not in the evening?" "You know I hate vulgarity!" "I don't care what you hate! You're a bitch!" Ah, he shouldn't have said the word, the same word Baker had used to her."Vulgarity disgusts me, you disgust me!" she cried. He also yelled: "You sleep with someone you hate! A woman who sleeps with someone you hate is a bitch, a bitch, a bitch!" The photographer used more and more obscene words, afraid of appearing on Inma Junata's face. Fear?Was she really afraid of him?I don't think: she knew deep down she didn't have to exaggerate the importance of the rebellion.She knew and had always believed in the photographer's tameness.She knew he insulted her to be heard, to be seen, to be valued.He insulted her because he was weak, he had no guts but dirty and offensive words.If she loves him, it's nothing at all, and she should be softened by this outburst of hopelessness and impotence.But instead of being softened, she felt a maddened desire to torture him.Because of this, she decided to take his words seriously, to believe his insults, to be afraid.So she stared at him with frightened eyes.

He saw the fear on Inma Junata's face and his courage increased: usually, he was afraid, he compromised, he apologized, but now, because he showed his boldness, his anger, she trembled.Thinking she was admitting her vulnerability and giving in, he raised his voice and continued to spout impotent offensive nonsense.Poor guy, he didn't know he'd been playing her game, that even when he thought he found courage and freedom in anger, he was just a thing to be manipulated. She said to him, "You frighten me. You're horrible, rough." He didn't know, poor fellow, that it was an irrevocable charge, and he was swiftly judged to be a Violent, attacker. "You scare me," she said again, pushing him away. He let her out the door and followed her like a wild dog following a queen. 31 exposed.I keep a copy of the newspaper clippings of "New Observer" magazine in October 1993; there is a poll: Give 1,200 self-proclaimed leftists a single word with 210 words, Among these words, they can circle the words that confuse them, make them feel special, attract them or make them feel good; as early as a few years ago, the same investigation was done: At that time, the same two words Among the hundred and ten words, there are 18 words that the leftists agree with and have the same sensibility.Today, there are three remaining words they worship.The only three words that people on the left can agree on?Oh, plunge!decline!What are the three words?Listen up: revolt; red; naked.The words “resistance” and “red” originally originated from the leftists, but apart from these two words, only the word “naked” can make the leftists feel excited and inherit the common symbolic inheritance, which is surprising.Is this all that history has solemnly bequeathed to us two hundred years ago from the French Revolution?It's the legacy of Robespierre, it's Danton, it's Jaures, it's Rosa Luxembufg, it's Lenin L(enine), it's Gramoncy (Gramsci), Aragon or Che Guevara?exposed?Bare belly?Sexual organs exposed?Naked?Is it under this banner that the last contingent of the Left still pretends to have made their great leap forward through the centuries? Why the word naked?What does this word, which they picked out on a list given to them by an institute, mean for the Left? I remember the leftist marches in Germany in the 70's, naked and shouting marches to express their anger about something (against nuclear power plants, fighting or gold power, I don't know), in a big city in Germany on the street. How to interpret their nudity? The first assumption: for them it represents the most precious of all freedoms, the most threatened of all values.These German leftists, like Christians carrying a cross on their shoulders when they died in crucifixion, exposed their sexual organs and walked away. The second hypothesis: These German leftists are unwilling to erect a symbol of value, but directly, to shock a disgusting crowd.Shock them, scare them, make them angry.Bomb them with elephant shit.Dump the dirty water of all the sewers of the world on them. A curious paradox: is nakedness the highest of all values, or is it, like the shit bombs we drop on our enemies, the most filthy thing? And what does nudity mean to Vincent when he repeats to Riley, "Take off your clothes!" and adds, "Let those who haven't had a good time see it." And for Julie, when she obediently, even with some effort, said: "Why not?" and unbuttoned her clothes, what did she represent?