Madhouses Are Houses Made On

Last Night, Two Men Tried To Force My Shutters. I Recognized Them: They Are Two Of Rodin's Italian Models. He Told Them To Kill Me. I Am In His Way; He Wants To Get Rid Of Me.

I Have Fallen Into An Abyss. I Live In A World So Curious, So Strange. Of The Dream That Was My Life, This Is My Nightmare.

Madhouses Are Houses Made On Purpose To Cause Suffering . . . I Cannot Stand Any Longer The Screams Of These Creatures.

When You Left On Saturday, I Felt A Horrible Void, I Saw You Everywhere, On The Beach, In Your Room, In The Garden: Impossible For Me To Get Used To The Idea That You Had Left.

I Have Been Back In Paris For Two Weeks. Nothing New. Life Is Still Bitter.