Fruit free of any bruises, not yet broken open, / With flesh so firm and smooth, it cried out to be eaten! - Charles Baudelaire

The old Paris is no more (the form of a city changes faster, alas! than a mortal's heart).

La jeune fille, ce qu'elle est en réalité.</p>Une petite sotte et une petite salope; la plus grande imbécile unie à la plus grande dépravation.

My love, do you recall the object which we saw,
That fair, sweet, summer morn!
At a turn in the path a foul carcass
On a gravel strewn bed,

Its legs raised in the air, like a lustful woman,
Burning and dripping with poisons,
Displayed in a shameless, nonchalant way
Its belly, swollen with gases.

- A Carcass