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I love you, childhood. I love you who are neither mother (pardon me mother, for I prefer a woman) nor sister, neither daughter or son. I don’t care about the lineage of our fathers and their desire for institutions. Let’s be neither husband nor wife, do without the family, without roles, functions, and their laws of reproduction. I love you: your body here, there, now. I/you touch you/me; it’s quite enough for us to feel alive. — Luce Irigary