Feelings
It's not about making love, it's about sexuality. Ah your values, your values, if you could put them where I think for once!
Even and especially when it is touched by love, the couple is a matter of non-desire. This love becomes a repulsive thing.
As Victor says about the spider and the nettle - not Dr. Frankenstein, but his friend old Hugo - I love hate because we hate it.
Enough to bivouac after the attacks and to take the air on a motorway area where you can park to enjoy the clear sky.
Even alone, one may not be in tune with one's inner self. We are too afraid that it is a crime. Fortunately there is the mask to help us be.
I am one of those narrow-minded people who stupidly think that there is no crime without a murderer, no smoke without fire and no right-wing extremist... without a right-wing extremist.
Behind the pretexts, homophobia, violence against women or any other primary racism, lies the persistent hatred of childhood
Theatre, wandering creature, eternally dying, adrift, floating in its sea of excrement like a cacochymous whale
It is human and tribal to have to be constantly reassured about one's membership in a community and the relative state of one's loneliness
I will always try to legitimately welcome the confusion of girls who would put their index finger in contact with mine to make light.
