He had withdrawn solely for his own personal pleasure, only to be near to himself. No longer distracted by anything external, he basked in his own existence and found it splendid.

He who ruled scent ruled the hearts of men.

He succeeded in being considered totally uninteresting. People left him alone. And that was all he wanted.

No human being can go on living in the same house with a pigeon, a pigeon is the epitomy of chaos and anarchy, a pigeon that whizzes around unpredictably, that sets it's claws in you, picks at your eyes.

With one glance he had got himself trapped in the brown fundament of her eyes, he was in danger of sinking, as if into a soft, brown swamp, and he had to close his own eyes for a second to get out of it.

He decided in favor of life out of sheer spite and malice.

He had preserved the best part of her and made it his own: the principle of her scent.