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The good thing is she’s a doctor. She prescribed respiratory rehabilitation and spinal physical therapy. After three months of homosexual torsion, it was necessary. (I’m not kidding.) The physiotherapist asked me what kind of work I did to put my back in such bad shape. Writer. He didn’t ask any more questions. He understood. Breasts, I didn’t dare touch them. The clitoris, I had no idea where it was. I didn’t like going out with her and having people think I was trying to get my bearings. She came to make up Léonore’s eyes to look Japanese for the carnival. My little daughter, Midi Libre wrote about her. Slanted eyes fill with tears when they burn, Mister Carnival. For the little Japanese girl, the parade took a different turn. The school children didn’t stop singing or doing their folk dance. Except for the little Japanese girl, whose kohl was running. Giraffes when I’ve got starving children right next to me. A lesbian, when I’ve got my daughter crying next to me, burns Mister Carnival. But, Mister Carnival, forty years ago it could have been her in a camp of deported homosexuals. I dream! I dream: I loved seeing her, seeing her walk in the door. And with Léonore. Pitou my heart watched over her. That was her dog Baya’s nickname. She was very homosexual, she had everything, a female cat, a female dog. I was fascinated. Clara always wanted to be the mother. She’s always quick to say it, she says it fast. All that’s left for her, Léonore tells me between sobs, is to be the second mother. But she’s not allowed to have children, a little cat, or a little dog, that’s it. It has made me sick. I’d caught it. For three months I was truly beside myself. I wanted to keep on. I felt strong enough. But that’s it, I drank the dregs. Léonore cares less and less for playing the boy in their games, since Clara absolutely insists on being the girl. With a wave of his hand he cut short any discussion: How much time? Muzil told me “the doctor doesn’t give the truth straight out, but gives the patient the means to figure it for himself, by talking in a roundabout way.” The lack of a cock, I was conscious of it and regretted it. A game of mirrors, I fell victim to it and regretted it. After a certain time I had no pretensions to perfection. I tried. I rebelled now and again. I wore skirts. The head doctor prescribed Muzil massive doses of antibiotics. I love women, I love animals, I love men, I love Italy, I love the color red, I love Léonore, I love life, and dogs too.