...the ripening of grapes on the vine, the soft lull of bees, the scent of roses in bloom, a hard book in my hand, and the warm sun on my breasts... reading in the garden is a sensual feast.
“Then at certain moments I remember one of his words and I suddenly feel the sensual woman flaring up, as if violently caressed. I say the word to myself, with joy. It is such a moment that my true body lives.”