Burning sun over the parisian terrasses this week, a good change from New-York’s raindrops and I am tanned just by drinking white whine outdoors. A little fairy gave me my old life back. Monday, I had a nice drink with a classic dutchman at “Le Fumoir” before meeting a friend for the press projection of an Israeli movie. A late dinner at a nice restaurant near Bastille brought us an amazing conversation with our neighbours. We stayed late. It is too warm to sleep at night, the appartments keeping the heat of the day, while a fresh breeze makes you want to wander forever in the streets. Tuesday, after the new Martin parr exhibit, we went with my mother and my grandma to a beautiful production of “carmen” at the Opéra comique. Gardiner – who is known to be an amazing baroque conductor- was leading the orchestra. It is strange how Marc Minkowski initiated with his taste for offenbach a fashion  : replacing the interest for XVIIth and XVIIIth century music by a new crush for XIXth century french opera. Wednesday I finally entered the trendiest club in town : “Le Montana”, but the best part of the evening was after, while waiting for a cab on the bd Saint-Germain, we met a famous french “jeune premier”, riding his bike with a friend. It was two in the morning; he stopped, we started talking for one good hour, new people joining the circle to broaden it to a very cool and cozy discussion group of ten. Thursday was the opening of “Paris Cinema”, so after the screening of a french movie gathering all our best actors, we were invited to drink rivers of champagne in the beautiful reception rooms of the “Hôtel de ville”. I met a couple of interesting people and, as I was a member of one of the juries of this festival, three years ago, I bumped into old friends. After that, I did not feel like sleeping so we met at the “Flore” (which is the cornerstone of my life here) with my brother and did some club-hopping in the 8th (Bonheur des dames, néo, baron). Yestrday, I wanted to take a night of to sleep a little, but a friend called me from the garden which is at the feet of my appartment: they were having a picnic in the Champ de Mars, so I joined, and we ended up with this friend – who is a composer- listening to some music while drinking very good whisky at home. He left at 4, after delivering a beautiful subject for my next book : his roomate is just the perfect character, I have to meet this man. The story of my next hero actually made me laugh to tears, for the first time in months. It is good to laugh, I almost forgot what it is like. Tonight, after having my little tour of the galeries of the marais, I joined my brothers for a barbecue on their balcony. Nice and juicy meat, burgers to honour the 4th of july, and then the whole group of 12 went to Bagatelle, a beautiful disco with nonetheless beautiful people in the boid de Boulogne.

I am working and feeding myself with all the culture I like, I could even sing Jacques Brel and Edith Piaf with some dear friends, but I feel so sad, I want to become a stone. An amethyst would be good, I always thought its looked as if it were crying a little every day. Time is supposed to bring me back to life; that is what they say. I am starting to doubt it very calmly.

Tags: Bagatelle, été, Flore, Montana, Paris, retour

Cet article a été publié le Dimanche 5 juillet 2009 à 1:45 et est classé dans Journal. Vous pouvez en suivre les commentaires par le biais du flux RSS 2.0. Vous pouvez laisser un commentaire, ou faire un trackback depuis votre propre site.