Woman
A woman is always aware of how she looks. Indeed she is how she believes she looks. She is a master of appearances - born to act. She can push an emotional button to switch-on any feeling she chooses.
At a moment's notice her face beccomes soft, her eyes wide, her smile welcoming. A look of pure early morning sunshine - flat, yet warmly alive - and vacant. But then her face is not so much vacant, but a vacuum to a man; for it draws him closer before sucking him in to oblivion.
A woman's eyes are big enough for a man to fall into. And when he does, he merges with the essence of woman. Then he becomes like the wind: yielding, free, untouchable. But like the wind he also becomes aimless, changeable, and without substance.
She is like butter about to melt. How does she stand up? She looks so lacking in structure that if one blew against her she might vaporize. But Oh how much pleasure man receives in this - for a little while - to be nothing!
Is it not ridiculous that Nature should feel lacking? And what is more, to desire itself in order to feel complete. So it is when a man desires a woman.