I love flowers and serge ginsburg.

I love poems of forgotten poets like that poet whose name I forgot.

I like music coming from the next room. Piano sonata passing through a wall.

I like wine that someone put their soul into.

And to read a book written in blood. Or with a loving heart.

I like to find out what’s new and think what an idiot I was to not discover it until now.

I like to dream.

I love my kid more than anything.

And flowers.