Would I were air that thou with heat opprest
Might’st let me breathe myself into thy breast.
Would I were air that thou with heat opprest
Might’st let me breathe myself into thy breast.
“
There looms, within abjection, one of those violent, dark revolts of being, directed against a threat that seems to emanate from an exorbitant outside or inside, ejected beyond the scope of the possible, the tolerable, the thinkable. It lies there, quite close, but it cannot be assimilated. It beseeches, worries, and fascinates desire, which, nevertheless, does not let itself be seduced. Apprehensive, desire turns aside; sickened, it rejects.
“
Julia Kristeva | Powers of Horror: An Essay on Abjection