I stopped and gazed on the little dull man who was being paid to be a teacher of teachers. I turned and walked to the door, slammed it closed with a bang, and broken glass crashed to the floor. There was uproar behind me in the class, which did not interest me at all.
“I am a guest of the French language. My poems in French are born of my interaction with the French language, which is not the same as that of a French poet.”