The terrible or majestic god of fire touches, caresses, and then strikes with lightning. Should we also caress this smooth, satin skin, sewn by a blind weaver, to whom everyone comes once for a stately suit? He knows the ingredients of this cocktail, he knows its bright beauty, its ginger and pink berries are arrows from a blowpipe. Feeling his reflection in the glass he offers, the soul in the body of this impeccable dandy. Mineral, magma under the ice, animal, he knows everything. Enslaving king of cards, he is also Mango to smile and dance. He is jasmine for night and day in this game of lights. His turquoise diamonds are mirrors. His mirrors are eyes of amber and musk, Latin skies and amber fires.
