Reproach of the Idol

What does the idol want from me? — eyes closed, silent — Does it want me to step in the footprints of the first creatures on the soil of barren deserts? Does it want me to be a lizard crawling on my belly and scorched to circle forever and ever around a stone and swallow every living creature that has sprouted in my path? What would this idol do if I were it — sometimes a word, sometimes a stone, always overpowering — and it were me — a woman always — eyes closed? silent?...