Before I Could Read, Almost A Baby,

When He Talked His Eyes Went Away From Mine And Then He Forced Himself To Look Straight At Me And He Began To Explain And I Knew That He Felt Very Strange With Me And That He Hated Me, And It Was Funny Sitting There And Talking Like That, Knowing He Hated Me.

As Soon As I Turned The Key I Saw It Hanging, The Color Of Fire And Sunset. The Colour Of Flamboyant Flowers. ‘if You Are Buried Under A Flamboyant Tree, ‘ I Said, ‘your Soul Is Lifted Up When It Flowers. Everyone Wants That.’ She Shook Her Head But She Did Not Move Or Touch Me.

I'm No Use To Anybody,' I Say. 'i'm A Cérébrale, Can't You See That?' Thinking How Funny A Book Would Be, Called 'just A Cérébrale Or You Can't Stop Me From Dreaming'. Only, Of Course, To Be Accepted As Authentic, To Carry Any Conviction, It Would Have To Be Written By A Man. What A Pity, What A Pity!

Have All Beautiful Things Sad Destinies?

London Is Like A Cold Dark Dream Sometimes.