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You don't love anything or anyone, you don't even love the difference you think you embody. All you know is the grace of the bodies of the dead, the grace of those like yourself.
Duras's writing style in The Malady of Death is dreamlike and poetic, purposefully the bones of a story. She writes what is needed and leaves the rest up for interpretation. Though the story is written in second person, it's remarkably evident that you, the reader, is a passive observer to the “you” in the story — and perhaps that evokes a stronger emotional response.
Helpful to read in the context of the heteropatriarchy, especially with the trope of the manic pixie dream girl. In a way, this short story is a wonderful subversion of that.