I’ve only been to jail a few times, but in several different countries, at that. No, I've only been to jail a few times. But I still claim the ability to write a "serious" novel.

It was a time I slept in many rooms, called myself by many names. I wandered through the quarters of the city like alluvium wanders the river banks. I knew every kind of joy, ascents of every hue. Mine was the twilight and the morning. Mine was a world of rooftops and love songs.

I regained my soul through literature after those times I'd lost it to wild-eyed gypsy girls on the European streets.

Looking back on my life, I sigh. The caprice of youth goes with the wind, I’ve no regrets.

Be there a picnic for the devil,
an orgy for the satyr,
and a wedding for the bride.

I wandered everywhere, through cities and countries wide. And everywhere I went, the world was on my side.