Perfection is static. And I am in full progress.

“Henry and June, Penguin Books, Londres, 1990 (2001), p. 12.

She lives on reflections of herself in others’ eyes. She does not dare to be herself. There is no June Mansfield. She knows it. The more she is loved, the more she knows it. She knows there is a very beautiful woman who tooks her cue last night from my inexperience and trie to lose her depth of knowledge.

p. 15.

J’avance lentement dans ce livre, comme dans un lieu sacré… J’y évolue à chaque ligne… étonnant…

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