“Had she ever tried to convert any one herself?
Did she not wish everybody merely to be themselves?”
— Woolf, Mrs. Dalloway
They no longer colonize with ships. No armies arrive on my shore, war-boots in sea-water until they sink into wet sand and subdue. Too costly. And then you have to leave a force to force compliance... It’s ugly. Instead, they whisper, those enlightened who yet carry the burden of rectitude. A word, a phrase spoken through the air, taken in — and I’m lost. They no longer act; they just wait until I bow my head beat my breast seek forgiveness from gods curiously unprepared to absolve.
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