Some of us like to get tied up by ropes, surrounded by strangers, privately. Some of us like to play with knives, submerged in innocence, childishly. There is a dark desire in the heavy air, yearning to be destructed by a power so almighty. It is only powerful because it is consensual. Some of us consent to being hurt, surrendering to an extreme dominance that squanders our sense of self, remoulding our pride into nothing but a human egg, waiting to be enriched, nurtured, and reborn, time after time.