Apr 28, 2008

Déjeuner sur l'herbe



How refreshing to step outside of Paris for a day. Five metro stations away from my home and i'm in a totally different place, where some of the houses remind me of those seen in my grand-parents' village in the Loire Valley. An old factory in Montreuil turned into a loft with a big yard full of plants, a deck, chairs scattered around the garden and a table covered with glasses filled with champagne. And filled again. And then filled with white wine until the end of the day. Ten of us chillin' between the shade and the sun, feeling lazy and giddy. Weed smoking. Playing red light-green light. Teasing one another. Couples embracing in the grass, mother and daughter reading children's book under the weeping willow, walking barefoot, stepping on incandescent ash without minding it, talking about script-writing, movies, vintage furniture shopping in towns where you can still find great deals, pornography, music, adolescence, first hard-on (on a moped in the countryside, dreaming of a lonely farmer), smelling freshly picked lilac, cutting each other off, pouring more wine, eating again, digging in the chicken with our fingers, pealing shrimps...

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