Beauty Only Happens Once.

In Algeria, I Had Begun To Get Into Literature And Philosophy. I Dreamed Of Writing-and Already Models Were Instructing The Dream, A Certain Language Governed It.

My Most Resolute Opponents Believe That I Am Too Visible, That I Am A Little Too Alive, That My Name Echoes Too Much In The Texts Which They Nevertheless Claim To Be Inaccessible.

Each Time This Identity Announces Itself, Someone Or Something Cries: Look Out For The Trap, Youre Caught. Take Off, Get Free, Disengage Yourself.

Who Ever Said That One Was Born Just Once?

I Never Give In To The Temptation To Be Difficult Just For The Sake Of Being Difficult. That Would Be Too Ridiculous.