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The Confessions Of A Concubine
The Confessions Of A Concubine
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The Confessions Of A Concubine


completely in my power, so you could not have denied me!"

I hated him for his one-way jibes, but his proximity melted my joints and ligaments, and I felt my knees go weak again and the blood melt in my veins, yet I had to maintain the impassive mask of the afflicted colleague, because his wife was watching us.

Whether it was hatred or the fire that burned inside me that was predominant, I had no idea.

A few words when I returned from that devastating evening.

Between today and tomorrow

I dress in air

and in the irreversibility of time,

I wait,

to breathe.

Sitting at the kitchen table, alone with the scarlet notebook in front of me, I did not want to sleep, just write.

I wanted Pietro but I could not have him, it was clear, but I didn’t want to listen to the voice of logic that told me to stop, to interrupt that relationship while I was still in time, in time to save myself, in time to save my dignity, in time not to continue on the path of vivisection in pieces, of the choice, I like this and I don’t like that.

But stubbornly I looked only at what I wanted to see, I gave light to what made my heart beat faster, without evaluating the fact that Pietro seemed more interested in sex than in a future together, that after seeing him with his wife I should no longer have any doubt that he would never leave her for me.

But blindness is a choice.

And I had chosen.


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