I placed here the title "Epilogue" instead of "Prologue" as a sign, not to surprise with the twist, nor from my well-known mania to title some still-living and secretly ambitious actions of mine with lamentation. I preferred it because the publication of these texts is indeed the epilogue of a pending matter that has remained in the drawer for nearly forty years without asking me for anything, but also without resigning itself from its maintenance.

Three of the things I used to innocently mock in the past were hair gel, shoulder pads, and the publishing or republishing of texts that one has written during their waning youth or during their flourishing despair. I embraced all three.

[...] From the volume of writings, I selected very few, somewhat revised by necessity, along with very few that existed as reserve material for the upcoming issues but did not get published in time. To the gullible and the sentimental, I suggest attributing this act of publication to the pressure of the need that some people feel, as they grow older, to add new forgetful elements to what their biography has already accumulated.

(from the "Epilogue" of the book)