One Evening I Sat Beauty On My

Je Est Un Autre. (i Is Someone Else).

No One's Serious At Seventeen.

It Began As Research. I Wrote Of Silences, Of Nights, I Scribbled The Indescribable. I Tied Down The Vertigo.

The Sun, The Hearth Of Affection And Life, Pours Burning Love On The Delighted Earth.

Then You'll Feel Your Cheek Scratched... A Little Kiss, Like A Crazy Spider, Will Run Round Your Neck... And You'll Say To Me : "find It !" Bending Your Head - And We'll Take A Long Time To Find That Creature - Which Travels A Lot.