I gave up reading long ago.
At one time my house was full of half-read books. That’s as disgusting as people who eat one piece of foie gras and throw the rest away.
Act I, Scene 1
Monte Carlo, Monaco
She was sitting all by herself, as lull as the wooden bench she sat upon, while the world went by. It was the busiest corner of Monaco – garden overlooking the grand casino. The pigeons frolicked around, incongruous of her intent gaze which had infinite sadness ! He slowed down his pace, wondering what was wrong with the lady on the only bench in park. Had he known french and been more gregarious, he would have chatted casually, but nien !
He quickly concluded that the high, fast pace life of this part of the world had its own victims. The septuagenarian walked slowly across the road for the chihuahua was not helping.It wanted to smell some litter and the old chap dragged him forward mocking his strength. As he was jotting it down, it occurred to him why there were so many old folks with pets ? Other than the ‘purse keeping’ the pet was in vogue and unè fashion statemente
La belle on his right was fervently playing with the squashed cigarette, she would take out mirror frequently and adjusted some feature of her visage that probably she thought was inadequately worked upon. She continued fidgeting with the tobacco stick, and rushed with a force as train came to halt in “nice-riquer”. Smokers often have a limited chalance for anything when they are seized by insatiable desire for Nicotine
The train continued its journey parallel to ‘the azur coast’. The empty seat was taken by the young couple, the boy looked in mid twenties and was holding the stick, probably a sports’ injury, and his girlfriend failing to find any empty seat happily sat on his lap. the couple was happy as couples in love are, they laughed , they kissed and joked around , there was a general bon homie around.
The writers attention shifted to his nearly dead legs, with all the walking and that too in hiking boots , which he had proudly purchased once his old faithful Caterpillars gave away, after five years of service. To say that he was sad, losing them, would be an understatement. Yet he was at peace with his new palladiums, well enough of materialistic divulge. Coming to Côte d’Azur had rekindled the lost writer in him , seeing the french culture experiencing their mannerisms, idiosyncrasies , he had ample stuff to jot about (and probably that’s why Anurag kashyap came to France to finish his script for GOW-2).
Act 1, Scene 3
-“But milord that was Paris , the writer here in question didn’t even want to go to Paris and instead resorted to staying in French Riviera , as English would have said”
– Sustained ! Do you have anything to refute that
– Yes , milord ! Isn’t Paris clichéd
– but that’s like jumping to preconceived conclusion . Camus wrote in Paris , so did miller and others writer that you swore to ??
– yeah may be , but given the short duration and his agnosticism to urban landscapes …
And for the same reason he didn’t like Monaco it was like urban
– or he felt like bourgeois there ?
– may be , but the fact remains same, he would have ..
Did Antibes passed by !!! Fuck !!
There was adrenaline flashing on a distant building in neon lights and it wasn’t antibes , inot or valentine-louset-place. Something French.
PS : I hope readers will ignore the not-so-pathetic titular attempt of luring French crowd.