origin of grievance; pt. 1. The woman.

It was a blink of her mind, but the image remained, clear as the sun remains behind eyelids: no.
She wasn't supposed to do it, she wasn't even supposed to think about it. Was not; do not; no. These things remained in her young mind, what was her mind as such, in a way that had never occurred to her before. She had never thought about it, never been able to think about it, in fact, nothing had ever really 'occurred' to her ever. But, of this, she was instructed, no. No, do not. And it was this thought that she was thinking. The first thought of her new life.
The second, and almost simultaneous, thought of her new life, her new life of thought, was, do.
Never before had she been imbued with categories. The thick strokes of division dripping viscous dye, staining forever her blank mind. She could already sense the urges of her new life straining inside her skull, pressing outward, bulging behind her eyes and inflating her neural capilliaries with blood and flow. The dim flicker of intelligence glowed in the spaces of every synapse. Possibilities so new, sense so original; an only once first orgasm of a mind opening urgent and in agony, but soothing fluid into something else; pleasure, relief.
The feeling of pregnant thought, so voluptuous and seductive, was still however, a shadow among shadows. She could not turn on the lights in a dark room without a guiding hand; a hand that, without irony, told her no, so that she might learn yes.