There was once a man who lost his shadow.
I forget what happened to him, but it was dreadful.

As for me, I’ve lost my own image.
I did not look at it often, but it was there,
in the background, just as Maurice had drawn it for me.

A straightforward, genuine, “authentic” woman, without mean-mindedness,
uncompromising, but at the same time understanding, indulgent,
sensitive, deeply feeling, intensely aware of things and of people,
passionately devoted to those she loved and creating happiness for them.
As fine life, serene full “harmonious".

It is dark: I cannot see myself anymore.
And who do the others see?
Maybe something hideous.


Simone de Beauvoir (The Woman Destroyed)