... A Gorgonâs curly mane... The Jim Morrison kind, sculpted with rollers, curls sealed with ammonia... The eraâs canon of beauty, homemade-style. The first act of my emancipation...
... I was emerging from a childhood that hadnât spared the rod⊠My desires cut short... My hair parted on the side... The front fold of my flannels neatly pressed... Not a word out of place... A stiff and starched, ordered childhood⊠My Self in the closet... My dreams hidden beneath my pillow...
... A pair of motorbikes rumbling across my nights... Hopper and Fondaâs choppers... A trail of dust... Easy Rider, full speed... Freedom sliding on the road... A pair of runaways opening the way for me ... America, the promised land of my Free Will...
..Music in the distance... Woodstock â69... Notes full of mud and fervour... Chords screaming with hope and crying out for liberation .... âFreedom, Freedom, Freedomâ... Richie Havensâ improv as a personal message sent to me... âGot itââŠ
... In my mind, my escape plan... My secret to leave my chrysalid... âA long way from my homeâ... The immensity of the world before me... A swarm of Butterfly-Women on the horizon...
... Something was growing inside me, piercing beneath my skull, sprouting under my skin... Something dividing and rising... Something flowing out of me... I could feel myself becoming handsome; my wings sprouting...
... Hulk, Apollo, and Nietzsche: there was a bit of each in me... This âsuperhumanâ feeling... Become what you are ... Freedom at age 18... The Door open at last... I was going to become what I am...
