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Afternoon, Paris is fun, at tables, on terraces
Looks, heavy with meaning, and disregard for those who search for a hand
I really don't expect anything
I come to read books
Artaud, Miller, then I have to go
Wander without reason
From tears to pride, Paris depresses, Saint-Germain is illuminated
Melt into the crowd, in the city of easy encounters
I don't care much, the drawings I have in these boxes
Are my own passion
Art is my reason
If I ever look for adventure
Paris café, Le Flore, where you tell me "I adore you"
After midnight, Paris is fun, at tables, detached
Looks, heavy with meaning, and disregard for those who search for a hand
I really don't expect anything
I come to read books
Artaud, Miller, then I have to go
Wander without reason
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