What is it that turns one copy from the other, that creates the impossibility of exchange? If two people share the same genetic code, how do they become irreconcilable, exclusive, somehow broken apart from each other?
My opening never changes though. That’s the one thing that never changes. And you won’t believe it. “So,” I say. “What’s your sign?” That’s the truth. My hand to the god of getting laid, that’s the truth.
I am free to taunt mortals with the frank confession that I am stealing the golden vessels of the Egyptians,
in order to build of them a temple for my God, far from the territory of Egypt.
If you pardon me, I shall rejoice; if you are enraged, I shall bear up.