“You just behave yourself,” she said, still clasping him to her. “I said it was easier, not easy.”“A boy can dream,” sighed Bobby.“A boy...shouldn’t dream about his mother,” she said.“A boy dreams about every beautiful, sexy woman he sees,” grinned Bobby. “Whether she’s his mother or not.”She did push him away then, but he could see that she wanted to kiss him again. That was enough. He didn’t really want, in one sense, to make love with his mother. On the other hand, the idea didn’t bother him. I come from Vertige. I am therefore Vertige and we must not see me coming. I have more sense than feelings. Here for a part of my intention secréte… But, as one might say coincidence: the chance is a secret and I am sure my secret. So how to cross the fire ? Prometheus had to be the first artist, long before Apollo. This giant to make good service to ordinary people who do not so much demanded, therefore stole fire from heaven to the gods jealous of their impenetrable secrets. It has been. More

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