Voici une histoire courte faite de dentelle noire. Dans la langue de ce très cher Keats. Une muse pour cet article: Carrey Mulligan. Et une question, pour vous: Que faites vous pendant les nuits d'été?

"Oh, take me, take me, take me away" she chanted in a singing voice. She suddenly felt so small, so shy under the midsummer's sky. She thought of the millions of stars behind her back, beyond the open window. She thought of the moon that shone so bright that it would surely light the path to her home, if S. rejected her. But she didn't want to take that path, however bright and friendly. She wanted to tear her black-laced nightie and go find some more warmth in the arms of S. Because it was dangerous, it was delightful, and she didn't want to be wise. She knew something. Although she wasn't quite sure was it was. She blamed her confusion on the heat and on the lust.