From the greenness to the madness, from the sharp aura of digging mud on the street, to the destruction of all the bloody works at hand, Camille buried the wreckage of his destroyed works in the whistling wind, I am afraid that he buried his own mind together.
She had nowhere to get it back. Rodin was far more famous than her. When the man closed the door, even if she smashed his window, she would not be able to open the communication channel. She screamed Rodin's name, tearing apart the silence of the night, but could not break the master's deliberate silence.
She once had all the attention of her father, but she could only describe returning home withered to learn about her brother Paul Claudel's travels in China, and listening to her father reading his script aloud. Paul, who loved her dearly, gave the opening speech for her exhibition, but left speechless when he saw her madness when she attended. She finally broke down and was sent to a lunatic asylum by her family, where she spent the last thirty years of her life. She wrote to Paul, signed "Your exiled sister," with nowhere to go.
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