Anais, I don’t know how much I dare write you. I would call you, only I’m afraid Hugo would answer. God forgive if this letter’s ever opened by mistake. I can’t help it. I want you. I love you. I’ve been living with you constantly. But I’ve been afraid to tell you. I thought it would terrify you.
But today as I watched Dreyer’s Passion of Joan of Arc…I saw the mad monk played by Antonin Artaud. I thought of you like Joan…in all your youth and purity and single-minded madness.
And I saw myself in Artaud. A hungering monk in love with you and with my madness…and your madness.
And the demon in Artaud’s eyes was like the demon in your eyes.