I came to the puddle. I could not cross it. Identity failed me. We are nothing, I said, and fell. I was blown like a feather. I was wafted down tunnels. Then very gingerly, I pushed my foot across. I laid my hand against a brick wall. I returned very painfully, drawing myself back into my body over the grey, cadaverous space of the puddle. This is life then to which I am committed.
—VIRGINIA WOOLF, The Waves (1931)
_______________________________
Painting: RENE MAGRITTE, Le Coeur Dévoilé, Portrait de Tita Thirifays (The Heart Revealed, Portrait of Tita Thirifays), 1936