A couple was leaning over the railing and Lillian could hear the woman say: “Even of you don’t mean it, just for tonight, say you love me, I won’t ever remind you of it, I will not see you again, but just for tonight say you love me, say you love me.”

Would such a guarantee of freedom from responsibility make of any many a lover and a poet? Bring about a lyrical confession? In the green flare of a fireworks fountain, Lillian saw that the man hesitated to create illusion even for one night, and she thought, he should have been disguised as the greatest of all misers!

Anaïs Nin | Seduction of the Minotaur