"Nicola Griffith - Yaguara" - читать интересную книгу автора (Griffith Nicola)

and ask me questions for your damn article. You take my picture,
you listen to me rambling on, but you give me nothing. Not one
thing. Why? Because deep down you think youтАЩre better than me.
Better than everyone.тАЭ
тАЬNo. ThatтАЩs not it. ItтАЩs just thatтАжтАЭ
Cleis lifted her eyebrows, waiting, and Jane realized that she
was being goaded. For once, she allowed it.
тАЬWhy is everyone so eager to show everything to everyone all
the time? Everywhere you look there are people being stared at:
television, film, video, magazines, newspapers. Close-ups taken
from a mile away, such huge scale that pores look like craters. You
canтАЩt hide anything. Everyone looking, being looked at. Gossip
columinists. Stalkers. Tell-all biographies. Desperate actors having
their faces sculpted to look like last weekтАЩs star. It never stops.тАЭ She
was panting.
тАЬWhat exactly are you afraid of?тАЭ
 Jane blinked. тАЬWhat do you mean, what am I afraid of? These
people are being eaten alive! Everything they do or say is consumed
by a greedy public. A womanтАЩs child is mown down on the street
and the cameras are there: tracking her tears, recording the snot on
her chin, following the way she shifts from foot to foot because she
needs the bathroom. Sometimes they follow her into the bathroom.
Once you start giving them something, once they see the hairline
crack in your armor, theyтАЩre there, driving in, wedging you open,
spilling your guts.тАЭ
тАЬI still donтАЩt understand why it bothers you so much.тАЭ Jane
stared at her. тАЬLook, suppose they wired up your bathroom and
made a tape of you taking a dump, complete with groanings and
strainings, so what? So fucking what. ItтАЩs something every person
on this earth does. Nothing to be ashamed of.тАЭ
тАЬBut itтАЩs private! ItтАЩs my lifeтАжтАЭ
тАЬYou donтАЩt have a life. YouтАЩre so afraid someone will take it
away you havenтАЩt allowed yourself one.тАЭ
тАЬNo! ThatтАЩs notтАФтАЭ
тАЬThen why are you so scared?тАЭ
Cleis gestured at her own nakedness, at Jane in her hot, itchy
clothes, the cool lake, the empty jungle. All of a sudden,
horrifyingly, Jane did not know why. She was twenty-nine years old
and had spent her whole life hiding behind a mask and she did not
know why. She had denied herself so much: never had a lover,
never been naked in public, never been drunk or screamed out loud
with pleasure except in the privacy of her own apartments. She had
never had a friend, never had a real argument, never wept over a
dead pet.
She looked blindly out over the water. Normal people swam
naked and did not care. She was not normal. She did not know
what she was, or who. She wanted to lay her head down on the turf
and cry: grieve for all those lost years. But even now the habit of
privacy was too strong.
тАЬItтАЩs never too late to change,тАЭ Cleis said. And she waded out