And June, who loves me blindly, seeks to destroy me, too. My pages on her, which are a work of art, do not satisfy her. She overlooks their strength and beauty, and voices the complaint that all I have said is not true. But not for a moment am I crushed. I knew the exact value of those pages, independently of June. My work first, then. My power as an artist shaken, and then what other power have I? My natural stimulation, my vitality, my true imagination, my health, my creative aliveness. And what will June do to them? Drugs. June offers me death and destruction. June ensorcells me—talks with
...more
