I hope to cure myself of you in a few days. I should stop smoking you, drinking you, thinking you. It’s possible. By following now the prescriptions of morality. I prescribe for myself time, abstinence, solitude.

Does it seem okay that I only love you for a week? It is not a lot, nor a little, it is enough. In a week you can get together all of the love words that have been uttered on the earth and set fire to them. I am going to warm you by that furnace of burnt love. And also silence. Because the best love words are exchanged by two peoples who say nothing to each other.

You have to burn as well that other subversive side language of the lover. (You know how I tell you that I love you when I say: “It’s hot today”, “Could I get some water?”, “Do you know how to drive?”, “It’s getting dark”… Between peoples, on one side your people and on the other mine, I told you, “It’s getting late”, and you knew that I was really saying, “I love you”).

It would take another week to gather all the love of all time. To give it to you. So that you can do with it as you please: save it, caress it, toss it in the garbage. It’s broken, that’s for sure. I only want a week to understand it all. For this is a lot like leaving the mad house only to go to the grave.