Nobody understood her cruelty to herself. In this life, cruelty
begets cruelty, and, before long, one would have to chop off
one's own hand to end the source of self-torture. Yet, we
continue. Sister Mortar pounding on Sister Pestle. The hand
refuses to retreat, as if to retreat would mean less meat on
the table.

She, Mortar, the presentable one: clean, well kept, jade cross,
white colonial pinafore, shiny knees and elbows, straight As,
responsible hall monitor, future councilwoman. She is Yang:
heaven, sunlight, vigorous, masculine, penetrator, the
monad.

She, Pestle: disheveled, morose, soft spoken, a fearful dark
crucible. She is Yin: heaven's antithesis, moony, fecund,
feminine, absorption, the duad.