I have had my say, as he wished. Now the book belongs, as he points out, to the world he claims to speak for.
All I ever wanted, nira I expected: Nonette, upon whom my life pivots. The name I give my fire when I lay down, defenseless before its majestic awfulness. A little no, a little negation. A French girly pout, the syllables for which have been found at...
