Ohana, or as I like to imagine you, Mona Lisa, Capitu, or any other woman who was once art. I am always hypnotized by your smile, I travel in your gaze, and I am captivated by your mouth. As I said today, with you, my mind is divided. I am romantic, a poet, a philosopher, but also carnal, weak, surrendered. I don't know which side I listen to. I look for your eyes, your mind, but I imagine your body, sculpted art, the object of my desire. I end by saying that this is how I see your eyes: “No image comes to mind capable of saying, without compromising the dignity of style, what they were and did to me. Eyes of a hangover? Well, of a hangover. That's what gives me the idea of that new feature. They brought with them I don't know what mysterious and energetic fluid, a force that dragged one inward, like the wave that retreats from the beach, on days of a hangover.”