Robert Hart on the Superiority of Paganism to Pornography
It was my duty, on one occasion, to meet with a regular customer of the city’s psychiatric wards. I found him living in a small stone enclosure, too poor to be called a slum. He seemed a harmless, shrunken chap, mid-thirties or early forties, quiet and friendly. He invited me in, and I sat on his dilapidated sofa, carefully avoiding the springs that seemed poised to slice through my trousers. He offered me something to drink—an offer to be declined even if one’s tongue is drier than the desert sands. Every gesture of hospitality in such places is best treated as a threat.