( It's a slow giving, the recipients grateful: beggars with shaking hands, clumsily reaching for more. They do not harm, and some — clearly not mentally at their best — only nod along and accept what they are given, on whatever the terms.

The contents of Hyang-tai's basket appear interminable. She gives and keeps giving. )

A cousin. Distant. ( As if to illustrate: ) Distant enough, we could have married.

( But she laughs once more: )

But no one marries us in the fetters. We are not sisters, we are not daughters, we are not wives.