"Mathieu Lindon knew Michel Foucault as a friend for six years. It was a friendship that nourished him, raised him and made him discover himself. He has just published What To Love Means."
Gratitude is too sweet a sentiment to carry: you have to leave it somewhere and a book is the only honorable place, the only compromising. Whatever the particular value may be of several protagonists in my story, it's the same for each person in every civilization: the father's love weighs down on his son, the son has to wait until someone has the power to show him otherwise in order for him to finally perceive what it consists of. It takes time to understand what to love means.
