After years of marriage, he stands at the foot of the bed and

tells his wife that she will never know him, that for everything

he says there is more that he does not say, that behind each

word he utters there is another word, and hundreds more be-

hind that one. All those unsaid words, he says, contain his true

self, which has been betrayed by the superficial self before her.

“So you see,” he says, kicking off his slippers, “I am more than

what I have led you to believe I am.” “Oh, you silly man,” says

his wife, “of course you are. I find that just thinking of you

having so many selves receding into nothingness is very excit-

ing. That you barely exist as you are couldn’t please me more.”