It’s with such intense joy. It’s such an hallelujah. “Hallelujah,” I shout, an hallelujah that fuses with the darkest human howl of the pain of separation but is a shout of diabolical happiness. Because nobody holds me back anymore. I still have the ability to reason–I’ve studied mathematics, which is the madness of reason–but now I want plasma. I want to feed directly from the placenta. I’m a little frightened, still afraid to give myself over since the next instant is the unknown. Do I make the coming instant? Or does it make itself? We make it together with our breathing. And with the ease of a bullfighter in the ring.