You don't look like someone who lives in Paris.
And you... you look like you've been breathing in the air in Picasso's studio. Peculiar air... sometimes it seems like poison gas... and then you find you cannot breathe in any other.
I assure you that is not the case with Francoise.
I don't like cats. But when my dog died, he gave me a cat. I still have it. It's called Moumoune. He gave it that name. It's a very vicious cat. Look... He'll leave you when he's ready. Even then, you won't be free of him. After him, without him, there is nothing. After Picasso, only God. And Moumoune... that cat just won't die.