Then, the day came.

It had a bad start. I arrived late, disheveled and unshaven. Being on time for the meeting, she was sitting near a window, holding her face in her hand, like Simone Beauvoir in the mid fifties, allowing her gaze to wander. She was in her forties, her cheeks somewhat puffed, a warm smile. A blue lace dress, a sweater over the shoulders.

"Teresa Teng, I presume?"

"You’re Fran?ois?"

"I am just what I am, a human being but you are much more than that, an idol, an icon. I heard that some people pray for you before sleeping."

She laughed and said, "I am just a woman embracing her way in the today’s life. That’s enough for me and that’s all!"

"I am not sure of that. You have got a praiseworthy background, lot of songs spreading their faith of love all over the world. And as far as I learn, some lovers reached the moon. I will tell you straight. I would need more than one year, night an day, to listen all your songs. That’s uncommon!"

"And imagine," she said assuming a mischievous smile, "if you have to memorize all of them. It takes you more than all your life. So, you will get buried with my lyrics. Are you friendly enough to do so?"

"That seems an unbearable task! If it should happen, I need urgently to get an appointment with God! I will ask him to insert in my brain a talent micro ship. Being a half-human half-computer I would perhaps have the chance to meet this challenge. And even so, I am not sure I would reach that goal."

"What song of mine do you know?"

"What an embarrassing question? I am so sorry. I never heard any of your songs."

"Mr. Blanc (the music mogul) told me that you are…He said that you are something like a music critic, a specialist."

"What an uncomfortable situation! I am not that, my friend."

"Great! It is like a new start for me. So I am returning to my youth when I was unknown. Not more that an average Taiwanese mountain girl with Hebei roots."

"If you have that possibility, will you return to the future?"

"Ten thousand times for sure! The music business is not always a source of happiness. I read something about Edith Piaf. She has a prodigious voice, an enormous talent. She was an icon but she was also deeply unhappy at such level that she died very early."

She remained silent a moment, her eyes absorbed by the cross of the Saint-Germain Church. At that time, I realized how gorgeous and elegant a woman she was, endowed with an extreme sensitivity. Then she took a long breath, clenching her hands. She stared at me, as she wanted me to witness that moment. Rarely in my life, I felt such strength in somebody's eyes.

The conversation took another turn. I have more trouble finding my words. Silences become much more frequent. Suddenly, I asked her a question that I consider retrospectively as bizarre and hazardous.