The Inversion of Violence

After I was hit, I desired for several weeks to hit in my turn. It was as if the violence were an actual object that had been transferred to me and that I needed to pass on. What I passed on would be more or less exactly what I had received - a blow to an unsuspecting stranger in the street. The only difference was that I had no feeling for, no interest in, the consequences of this action. He remembered the way his assassin had turned around once she was at a safe distance to look at what she had done. A feeling of immense relief passed through him. Tomorrow, when they were home again, he would start a new painting.