A child came and sat next to me while I was wandering. The color among the leaves withered, making a rose, I took her, gave it to me. I could see with her in awe of fit. No wonder I'd been impressed with the attitude of this little guard in the retirement lot, if Genet were here.
Your house came to you, ”he whispered as I completed my mission. The words were stones. Every word in this book draws us into a triangle of infringement, perpetrator and betrayal, which is the product of a conscious choice, a stone that has been transformed into Genet, the pen in love.
