There was [in Angoulême, France] a huge bust of Hergé’s head in the middle of an open square. He’s smiling, but he doesn’t look genuinely happy. He seems too exposed. It was raining when I looked at him, but I’m sure he wouldn’t have seemed any happier if it had been a warm and sunny day. I wish they had given him a body. Maybe they will one day, and he’ll be as big as the Colossus of Rhodes. At that size, anyone would be happy.