The words flow, flow, intoxicated and seminal – drunk and reverie. I never talk to Jully next to a drain or an open window, otherwise I'll fall apart and start a journey of no return, diluted either in my own saliva or carried away by the air. Leaving aside all the excesses of the seduced "male", there still remains - and in fact surpasses everything - the feeling of the aesthete who has stumbled upon his utopia and regrets that the combined ecstasy of the eyes, mind and instinct is as ethereal as it is unparalleled.