Every paradise has a snake.It crawls up stealthily and before you know it has wrapped itself around you and is thrusting the apple into your mouth.Sometimes its not just a snake but Medusa.The feeling of its skin rubbing against the body arouses your vilest passions and parches your throat.You light a cigarette while you contemplate.Your lips get drier and you can’t resist biting the apple.
The saint doesn’t see the snake.For him it does not exist.As for me,on one day I struggle to disentangle myself from the snake and fling it far away.But I never fling it far enough.On an another i bite the apple the moment i see it in front of me.
Today it has wrapped itself around me again.I have smoked the cigarette.I almost bit the apple.Or did I bite it as I am writing this mail?
Tony Xavier 