Merci Montre
Opinion had it that the old man had slipped, that the car had run the red light, that the old man had tried to commit suicide, that things were getting worse than ever in Paris, that traffic was terrible, that it was not the old man’s fault, that it was the old man’s fault, that the brakes of the car weren’t working right, that the old man had been frightfully careless, that living was getting more expensive everyday, that there were too many foreigners in Paris who didn’t understand the traffic laws and were taking work away from Frenchmen.
-Hopscotch par Cortázar
It really isn’t so odd to run into the same person several times over if you think about it. Even in the transitory nature of travel, I’ll search and find that route that best suits what I’m wearing (don’t you?) and imagine! The fellow from yesterday perhaps ten pages deeper in some ambiguous analyses, and she as well I believe… yes its certain… flicker of recognition. (Ah routine and your coffee.) If I were to stay here much longer, something would definitely happen, a small catastrophe that would assemble all of us closer than we’d ever thought possible. There might be some debate on cause-and-effect, and certainly, attention will be drawn to the way I say “tout” and then someone will bring up the Helmut Newton expo because its quite obvious all of us liked it well.
Cute. But really. Be back in September: à plus, vous qui portez noir.
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