30/10/05
...A drunken man came up to her with a chair. Of all the chairs in
the entire house he had selected a gold one with a red brocade top.
Why couldn't he bring me an ordinary chair?
To single her out for this hierarchic offering was to condemn her.
Now it was going to happen, inevitably.
The night and the Party had barely begun and she was being whisked
away on a gold chair with a red brocade top by an abductor who would
carry her back to the dark room of her adolescence, to the long white
nightgown and hair brush, and to her dream of a Party that she could
never attend...
-Anaïs Nin, Ladders to Fire