The problem with my new theorem as to why I especially like Asian girls, which is otherwise movingly elegant, is that it depends on my being basically loving of and interested in others, in spite of negativity determining my tastes (resentment of other races for persecuting me). This leap of faith about my character is unproblematic to me--and no one can refute it--but I don't have a good explanation. It's definitely true that I remember very well just what persons have shown me extraordinary kindness, when and where. Then again, that is everyone.

These are my two obsessions this semester: the minimum prerequisite of feeling oneself part of the world, some frame of blind trust; and the difference between aesthetics and magic. What happened, what I see them as having done, or having the potential to this day to do--'what' in short do I see:

Every Little Thing, "When you were born into the world, what did you see?"

Nabokov, "Beauty plus pity. That is the closest we can get to a definition of art."