Article: Freud: Woody Allen and me

Sigmund Freud was like a Pharaoh. He built his monuments during his life - imposing writings, a byzantine legacy of professional institutions to continue his work and preserve his contribution to science, as he fondly believed it to be. Surrounded by books and Greek, Roman and Egyptian statues in his old house in London, a mausoleum kindly preserved by his daughter Anna just as he left it, I nervously eyed the couch on the other side of the room. Perhaps perceiving my nervousness, Freud could not resist a sly dig at my frosty refusal of a fat cigar, by instructing me that smoking is one of the greatest and cheapest enjoyments in a life that is principally filled with frustrations and ...

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