L'amant

One day, when I was already quite old, a man approached me in the lobby of a public building. He introduced himself and said to me, “I’ve known you my whole life.” Everyone says you were beautiful when you were young, but I’ve come to tell you that, to me, you’re more beautiful now than you were back then. I liked your face as a young woman less than the one you have now—this ravaged face.” ”

I often think of this image that I alone can still see and that I’ve never spoken of. It’s still there in the same silence, enchanting. Of all the images, it’s the one I like best about myself—the one in which I recognize myself, the one that enchants me.

Very early on in my life, it was already too late. At eighteen, it was already too late. Between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five, my face took an unexpected turn. At eighteen, I grew old.