What if there is truth in those stories of fear and fright, if there is truth in those legends of forbidden delights and the progressive sliding of innocence?

They say they are very quiet and that they call you, they say they are very sweet and that you will not want to return. They say they are very beautiful and that your unknown children will play in the clearings of the wood.

They will know everything about foxes and blueberries and also about furtive overtures, about evidences of happy love, about the delicacies of complex love… and as far as I know, loves are changeable. They will own the silence of dawn and will be acquainted with the confabulations of night.

Your wives with tight lips will be widows and the greatest kings will not be your cousins. If only there would be some truth in these hard to believe and easy to forget stories.

Unless it’s the other way around.