Friday. I moved into another room with a skylight and only one other person, Violet. She and I had a long talk, during which I told her many of the basics of my situation. She told me she believed another country calls the shots in the U.S. and that the U.S. is run by an oligarchy, including corporations. (Perhaps I should say she is not from the U.S.) Intriguingly, I recently spoke with U.S. citizens who told me the same thing. She further said that if you put a group of people in a room, all from different countries, including the U.S., there would be a “heaviness” about us that we don’t see because we’re too close to it. She is so perceptive! She also asked me if I thought of going public about my situation, and suggested I have oral surgery as well. I told her it’s a matter of finding a dentist who will pull a tooth without asking the reason for my request, and whom I can trust. It isn’t so much that I can’t trust dentists — after all, my father was a dentist — but my situation requires me to be extra cautious.
It usually rains rather than snows in Paris, which is okay by me. I love the rain.
I felt very lethargic, possibly because of the rain (though I love rain). I didn’t get out of the hostel until about 4:45 P.M. I ate at Le Basilic again: tomatoes and mozzarella skewer, cod with spinach in a light sauce, bread, a glass of wine (Pinot Noir, a new favorite) and cappuccino. Culinary heaven. The French really know how to eat and live. I saw Violet out with friends. Later, Violet went to Moulin Rouge for a performance. I went to bed, though first I organized for my night at the Gold Hotel (tomorrow).
Salut !
Images by Can Stock Photo.