I look quiet, but inside I know that I am a tiger. I don’t mean to say that inside I’m violent: only that even though I may look quiet, I know there is a torrent of feeling in me, a wave of desire. Ah, but you might say, that is not a tiger—that’s a tsunami. True, I might be more like a tsunami than a tiger, although this other feeling, this feeling I have of being quiet, seems more suited to a tiger than to a tsunami, which can only be loud, sudden, devastating. Of course, one can’t rule out the possibility that I am merely some other thing, some other thing which for reasons I don’t understand is neither tsunami or tiger.