Written on the body

Fotografia de Christine Guibert

Explore me’ you said and I collected my ropes, flasks and maps,
expecting to be back home soon. I dropped into the mass of you
and I cannot find the way out. Sometimes I think I’m free, coughed up
like Jonah from the whale, but then I turn a corner and recognise myself
again. Myself in your skin, myself lodged in your bones, myself floating in the cavities that decorate every surgeon’s wall. That is how I know you. You are what I know.

Jeanette Winterson