I am not feeling any better because I cannot stay in bed, having constant cause for walking. They say I leave at night by the window of my tower, hanging from a red umbrella with which I set fire to the forest!

Send me one hundred francs on our future deals, otherwise I will disappear in a cataclysm.

I tolerate my faults but not at all other people's.

I have had the problem of seeing my male model go to Italy and... stay there.

I have been back in Paris for two weeks. Nothing new. Life is still bitter.

I don't want to say anything because I know I am unable to protect you from the harm that I see.

When you left on Saturday, I felt a horrible void, I saw you everywhere, on the beach, in your room, in the garden: impossible for me to get used to the idea that you had left.