With friends like me, who needs mannequins? My love for you is statuesque. Come, let us dance like we’re made of stone.

I hate fake people. You know what I’m talking about. Mannequins.

March 1898What a strange dream I had last night! I wandered in the warm streets of a port, in the low quarter of some Barcelona or Marseille. The streets were noisome, with their freshly-heaped piles...

I love fake people provided they are mannequins.