We spent the night swirling on vodka and wine. 1969, artistic freedom and a Harvard graduate. Writing in the library is much different from writing in the hotel, especially when you're writing about love-making. Playing house inside a hotel, croissants and wine as breakfast in bed. Flowers were delivered at noon, yellow roses and a handful of snap-dragons. We throw on our fur for an afternoon stroll and a midnight cigarette on the balcony, is anyone wondering where we are?