You’re the one who goes to the museum and looks at the paintings. I mean the paintings are there and you’re in the museum too, near and far away at the same time. I’m a painting. Rocamadour is a painting. Étienne is a painting, this room is a painting. You think that you’re in this room, but you’re not. You’re looking at the room, you’re not in the...
The moment was delicately delicious, something like very thin chocolate or orange paste from Martinique; and we were getting drunk on metaphors and analogies, always trying to get into it.
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