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there, in a grove surrounded by flowers, sleeps the hermaphrodite, deeply asleep on the lawn. wet with her tears. the moon has cleared its disc of the mass of the clouds, and caresses with its pale rays that sweet figure of adolescent. his features express the most virile energy, at the same time as the grace of a celestial virgin. nothing seems natural to him, not even the muscles of his body, which make their way through the harmonious contours of feminine forms. he has his arm bent over his forehead, his other hand resting against his breast, as if to compress the beating of a heart closed to all confidences, and charged with the heavy burden of an eternal secret. tired of life, and ashamed to walk among being who do not resemble him, despair has won his soul, and he goes away alone, like a beggar of the valley. how does it obtain livelihoods? compassionate souls keep a close eye on him, and he does not suspect this surveillance, and do not abandon him; he is so good! he is so resigned! wilfully he sometimes speaks with those who have the sensitive character, without touching their hand, and keeps at a distance, in the fear of an imaginary danger. -lilith.0.00 post 18th november (les chantes de maldoror- comte de lautréamont)