Oh, don’t think I don’t appreciate its support and, in any case, I enjoy its enthusiasm a bit, but, as you can see, I can’t take it seriously, it would be unfair to myself and to all the people who actually follow my cause, or causes like mine. Let’s just say it doesn´t even know what colors I’ve combined to achieve the one I’ve put in front of its eyes, so how can I but smile at its content? No, I’m not fooling myself, I was young, ignorant and stupid too, so I know what it’s like to repeat ideas without having lived them first.
Other sounds also try to invade that watchtower that I managed to build in almost no time, but that you know it had a very high cost, so I prefer to keep up with the rhythm of waves and cliffs. The rocks let the waves come closer to them, if you look at them and forgive the comparison -almost cruel-, while I let her alone invade with her skin the aridity of my winter until all the witchcraft becomes, from her mouth, a summer spell that moves my fingers and makes them look for that that it cannot be found, that we built, alone.
It’s not much to it, though it might be too much. How do I know? We’d have to go back to Bergson, not Kant anymore, or even Morris. . . . How many books, how many trips, how many confessions, how many marches are made necessary for a pope to give advice for a good marriage without ever having spent a single weekend with his wife and children? For me it’s too stupid, too long and too heavy a list of murders, rapes, abuses of all kinds and colors. There is an offense like giving the Nobel of peace to those who profit from nuclear bombs.