I Have All Sorts Of Problems And

Don't Fear Anything For Your Letters, They Are Burnt One By One And I Hope You Do The Same With Mine.

Last Night, Two Men Tried To Force My Shutters. I Recognized Them: They Are Two Of Rodin's Italian Models. He Told Them To Kill Me. I Am In His Way; He Wants To Get Rid Of Me.

It Is In Fact Agreed That I Am The Plague, The Cholera Of The Benevolent And Generous Men Who Are Interested In Art And That, When I Show Myself With My Plasters, Even The Emperor Of The Sahara Would Flee.

You Know What Black Hatred Women Feel Toward Me As Soon As They See Me, Until I Return Inside My Shell, They Use Every Possible Weapon. As Soon As A Generous Man Tries To Help Me Out, A Woman Is Here To Hold His Arm And Prevent Him From Acting.

I Would Prefer To Have A More Appealing Job. If I Could Still Change Careers, I Would Prefer It. This Unfortunate Art Is Made For Long Beards And Ugly Faces Rather Than For A Relatively Well-endowed Woman.