Feb. 18th, 2003

decadent_david: (Watching)
This morning I sat in a small cafe, indulging in far too many cigarettes, while pretending to read the newspaper. As I discreetly listened in on conversations around me, I thanked my parents for insisting on my learning French. Of course, their intent was that I would use in in polite society, not to eavesdrop on pretty working girls as they made their plans for the coming evening.

One pretty little redhead with deep green eyes mentioned a club by the name of La Jarretière Verte, and her little group promptly dissolved into hushed laughter. Her dark haired, serious friend admonished her for even thinking of such a place, oh, what what would her parents think?

Ah, parents. Some things are universal, it would seem. As I rose to leave, I caught the eye of the redhead, and I grinned and winked. She blushed something furious, but to her credit didn't look away, and finally the darling rewarded me with a brilliant smile. The spirit of life in Paris strong, I saw that in her face. I believe I will seek out this La Jarretière Verte tonight. And I will drink a toast to blushing young women, absent, but not forgotten.

Evening is a long way off, though, and I have very ambitious plans for my afternoon. I will walk, slowly and meanderingly, through the more wicked districts of Paris. if I feel very ambitious, I may perhaps visit an art gallery, and purchase something terribly brilliant for my boring hotel walls.


decadent_david: (Default)

August 2003

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