I dreamed of having a book of my own, of writing one that I could put on a shelf.

My public life was so demanding that I wasn't doing the things that I deemed the most important.

No one expected me. Everything awaited me.

I thought to myself that he contained a whole universe that I had yet to know.

As an artist, I used to think that my responsibility was to do good work. But I had to learn from the 70s on that being a public figure presents another aspect of responsibility.

All of my role models, whether it was the disciples, or John the Baptist or Arthur Rimbaud, slept under the stars.

Should I pursue a path so twisted? Should I crawl defeated and gifted?