[Syndicate]

[Claudia Westermann]

>valmont, i believed your passion for me died. why this sudden fire again +?
>and with such youthful force. however, it's too late. you won't ignite my 
>heart anymore.
>not once again. never more. i am telling you this not without regret, 
>valmont. after all, there
>were minutes - maybe, i should say moments, a minute that is an eternity - 
>when i was happy thanks
>to your company. i am talking of myself, valmont. what do i know of your 
>feelings.
>and i should perhaps talk rather about the minutes during which i could 
>use you  - you, that was
>your talent in the intercourse of my physiology - to feel something that 
>in my memory
>seems to be a sensation of bliss. you didnt forget how to manipulate this 
>engine.
>dont take your hand away. its not that i am feeling anything for you. it 
>is my skin
>that remembers. or perhaps it doesnt matter to it - i am talking of my skin,
>valmont - simply doesnt matter does it +? to what kind of animal the 
>instrument of lust
>is attached, hand or claw. when i close my eyes you are beautiful, valmont. or
>hunchbacked if i want it. the privilege of the blind. they drew the better 
>lot in love.
>they are spared the comedy of circumstances: they see what they want to 
>see. the ideal would
>be blind and deafmute. the love of stones. did i shock you valmont. how 
>easy it is to discourage you.
>i didnt know you like this. did the fair sex wound you deeply after me. 
>tears. do you have
>a heart, valmont. since when. or was your virility damaged in my 
>successors. your breath tastes
>of solitude. did the successor of my successor send you packing. the 
>forsaken lover.
>no. dont retract your tender offer, sir. i am buying. i am buying in any case.
>no need to fear emotions. why should i hate you, i didnt love you. lets 
>rub hides together.
>ah, the bondage of bodies. the agony to live and not be god. to have a 
>consciousness but no
>power over matter. do not rush, valmont. that is good. yes yes yes yes. 
>that was well acted,
>wasnt it. what do i care for the lust of my body, i am no dairy-maid. my 
>brain is working
>at its normal rate. i am totally cold, valmont.
>
>my life my death my love.


Madame,

I die. I want to die.
This calmness is pleasure.

And your life will be all peace.
The letters are burnt.


adieu - true love does not kill