The greater part of my life is perhaps spent, but I know full well that youth may come with age. Until now, I used to smile at the idea of presenting myself, in spite of Claudine´s pleas.

A woman´s tenderness is without boundaries. After the anguish, as many will have known it, caused by the outside world but more still yet by one´s inner self, I have now discovered the peace that bring forsaking essential and yet useless things. What to do with such happiness, if not express it somehow, when one has a certain capability of doing so. This has been my strongest desire all my life, and I owe it to the Masters, those who to serve I would have given up my own labours.

Rembrandt the unequalled, who gave birth from translucent shadows flesh created out of love and yet mortal. Mozart, marvellous in his adolescence as well as in his requiem. The airy Tiepolo who was al grace, and whose hand was conducted by a magic brush. Paul Valery whose bright spirit lit up my youth.

I could not number all those whose feet I would have wished to kiss for the riches they have given me, riches I have tried to fructify. There is a phrase I repeat to myself every night, untiringly :

Tomorrow…shall be the masterpiece.