Mother dreamed every night and throughout the night, as she implied, but did not tell me her dreams, her twilight life escaped me, maybe sometimes acted, women lie as they breathe, their dark side was unknown to me and is the rule of the game between mother and child. The dark side of women is more terrible than ours, in the West we pretend to ignore their darkness, the Middle Ages spoke - it is true-of Melusina, and Melusina is, in my opinion the most admirable female portrait, in that respect the West never got so far.
Man can live without the woman, the woman cannot, the woman hangs from man and man mistakenly imagines that he persecutes her, when it is she who calls him. The convents of men are worth infinitely more than the convents of women, men do not need love, the flesh does not torment them with the same force, man does not suffer from being a man, but for lack of money or power, woman suffers from being a woman and also from not being loved. The beautiful appearances, the laughter, the games, the trifles and the graces, foam of the deep sea and beneath the foam a black world in which we no longer belong, but we belong to the species.
Man turned against the woman and if he had not resisted, the world would not have changed from the beginning. Mother agreed on it and in general was more heir of Antigone than of Medea, one could reason with Mother, Mother harbored in her head a real man discreet, of good counsel and enlightened judgment, full of measure and righteousness. It is a pity that her illness would have ruined her most noble qualities, we killed her spirit to prevent her flesh from torturing her again and again, she suffered little and only in the hours preceding her death.
We are hypocrites, we deceive their fears and their hopes, it was the most horrible theater, our manners were imposed on us, and we did not dare to confront them, I regret that spiritual murder and I would have preferred euthanasia, I would have preferred not to deceive the sick lady and that she die voluntarily at the beginning of agony, that is my only remorse. Poor Mother, victim of charity, that did not save her from decay, we overwhelmed her with medicines that her head could not resist, she lived alas! what a life, in comparison a physical murder turns out to be a blessing.
And what should have been done? Would Mother have endured the enlightenment that we denied her? She spoke of her old age and never of her death, she preferred to grow old to die with elegance, that's not the mood of a coquette lady, she liked living and when she was young, it seems that she had a lot of fun in Berlin from 1925 to 1929, she had had her share of joy and frivolity, that made her sober She judged me singularly tragic and, without condemning me, she did not fall into my pessimism, she confessed that every woman has resources that men don't even suspect.