You were once a girl; you would have read mathematics, history, science, geography, languages. Didn’t you find inspiring figures there? Didn’t those books arouse fantastic ideas in you?
I am sure that when you were younger, you thought of excellence, didn’t you? You would have had dreams. In your dreams, all that you were thinking of was men and relationships and romantic adventures? Is that so? You would have thought of penetrating the skies; you would have thought of roaming the world; you would have thought of knowing what mankind is, where we come from, and what our future is. What happened to all of that?
How is it so that as an adult, mature woman, all you do is think of a man? Why do you want to keep thinking of a common, average person—nameless, faceless, one in the crowd, one with the crowd?
