Women don’t need men. If there’s one thing I’d put my hand in the fire for in this world, it’s that anything a man can do, a woman can also do. Including urinate standing. With a little effort. And carefulness. She just doesn’t want to.
Who still has the impression that women are week and helpless, either is of cruel naivety or has not seen a woman at the height of a nervous breakdown or revenge. Or of the nest protection. It is a sublime and grotesque spectacle simultaneously, and all the known or invented ad hoc weapons appear from nowhere to serve their purpose.
The only vulnerability of the woman is the man. The one she loves. When he hits… with a random word… with a look at another woman…with indifference…the woman falls. An invisible knife hits her directly in the plexus and cuts her gut in slow motion, going straight to her heart, while she sits and watches from the sidelines, helpless, as everything leaves her, including life. Sometimes she fights. Applies pressure. Squeezes the tourniquet. She crawls a little more before she falls.
Sometimes she surrenders. She knows she doesn’t stand a chance in front of you. She doesn’t even want to because the fight is lost from the start: she expects you to be the one who protects her, not the one who hits.
