"...if repression has indeed been the fundamental link between power, knowledge and sexuality since the classical age, it stands to reason that we will not be able to free ourselves from it except at a considerable cost, nothing less than a transgression of laws, a lifting of prohibitions, an irruption of speech, a reinstating of pleasure within reality..."
Michel Foucault, We 'Other Victorians'.
Desire is dead and now I can tell his story. Like many of us, my friend Desire appeared to be something quite different than he was. He seemed on the face of it to be shallow and despicable, so how could anyone be expected to see that he was trying to be the best person he could. How could anyone see that behind the mask he was afraid for his life? Why should he have expected or even wanted this, why should he want to be understood? Because anyone must be sad if they can't be seen as a wonderful self by other wonderful selves, sad for a world that can't see them that way. So before you judge him, hear his story, and see what was there behind the words, behind the appearance.
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