Tamara de Lempicka, “Autorretrato”

NORA. You’ve never really loved me. You just thought it was fun to be in olve with me-that´s all… It’s true Torvald. When I lived at home with papa, he would tell me what he thought about eveything, so I never had any opinions of my own. And if I ever had any ideas of my own I made sure to keep them absolutely secret and hidden, because he wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. He used to call me his little doll, and he’d play with me just I played with my own dolls. Then I came to live with you in your house…What I mean is, that I passed directly from papa’s hands into yours. You’ve always arranged things just so, the way you wanted them, and I simply adopted the very same tastes as yours-well, at least I pretended I did-I can’t quite remember- Anyway, I suppose it was a bit of both really-first one-then the other. But now, looking back, it’s as if I were a beggar living here-from hand to mouth. I survived by performing tricks for you, Torvald. But that’s the way you preferred it. You know it’s a terrible wrong that you and papa have done me. It’s your fault that I’ve made nothing of my life… Our home’s been nothing but a play-pen. I’ve been your doll-wife, just as I was papa’s doll-child. And then in their turn the children have been my dolls. I used to think that it was fun when you’d come in and play with me, just as the children think it’s fun when I go in and play with them. But that, Torvald, is all that our marriage amounts to.

Henrik Ibsen, “A doll’s house