I hope for a setback delaying my leaving but in the same time I feel a kind of guilty indulging to habits. I let Michel Benoît, the author of "Prisonier de Dieu", read my journal. I think he liked it even though he found the style a bit pompous. Reading Proust in parallel does not help, for sure, but I really find difficult to express simply, things which are not. I also liked the term naive for my emotional behavior. I am always afraid of running out of spontaneity and act upon reflection, and I found myself suddenly young and happy to be. Sven, close to me, overheard our conversation in French without understanding it and waited for the departure of Michel to hug me and tell me that he hoped to see me again. I struggled to interpret his words. The problem with northern Europeans is their ability to remove the sexual side of things. An act synonymous of desire from us could be only a mark of affection for them; it is difficult to cope with it. I will see almost certainly Sven in Goa, the situation may become clearer. I am not against a little holiday love affair, even if a little more is out of question.
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