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I experience reality as a system of power. Coluche, the restaurant, the painter, Rome on a holiday, everything imposes on me its system of being; everyone is *badly behaved*. Isn’t their impoliteness merely a *plenitude*? The world is full, plenitude is its system, and as a final offense this system is presented as a “nature” with which I must sustain good relations: in order to be “normal” (exempt from love)…”—from_A Lover’s Discourse: Fragments_
