from the pompidou, from metro stalingrad where the subways are elevated and hanging like robotic insects and from which you can see along the length of the canal, and from the living room window of pia, a canadian full of frivolity in whose converted chambre-de-bonne we drank champagne.
i've been sick for the last few days and have no desire to do much. i made a nice soup today, read, and watched two movies. i don't feel very useful, but i'm trying not to consider "usefulness" as a value judgement any more since it rends me practically paralytic.
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