Paris always brings back to me those memories of over six years ago, when I was a literary-oriented person with a restless mind. Looking back on those years of yonder, I surprisingly find that many of the selections and readings I made stayed with me. One of the authors I treasure the most in my Paris-minded library is American poet and journalist Stephen Crane. In his short life (he lived to be 29 years old only) he wrote one of the most shocking and passionate poems I have read. Here it is:

In the desert
I saw a creature, naked, bestial,
who, squatting upon the ground,
Held his heart in his hands,
And ate of it.
I said, "Is it good, friend?"
"It is bitter -- bitter," he answered;
"But I like it
Because it is bitter,
And because it is my heart."