I imagine that I will wake up one morning, and I'll be starving! My mind will be so clear and I won't have a cent in my pocket. Or a centime. Or a franc. I'll be swallowed up in the damp lake bed that is Paris. It has not dried up already. It is waiting for the rain that will fill it with teeming life (starting wtih algea the most necessary
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I have a special weak spot for fellow francophiles. Tell me, you wouldn't happen to speak french would you? You and I, we could converse in french and devour bonbons dans un cafe. You also like philip glass? (with the koyaanisquatsi bit and all)
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