Journey Four

Here came first as a drain, a thrashing for internal use, a need to feel the stupid blue-covered passport in his coat pocket, the hotel key securely in the nail from the board. Fear, ignorance, glare: This is so called and requested it, now that women will smile, beyond the street begins the Jar din Des Planets. Paris, a postcard with a picture of Klee next to a dirty mirror. La Maiga had appeared one evening in the Rue Du Church-Midi, coming up to my room in the rue DE la Tom be IsaIce always brought a flower, Klee and Miro card, and if he had no money chose a banana leaf in the park . At that time I collected empty boxes and wires in the streets in the morning and manufactured mobile profiles turned on fireplaces, Maiga useless machines that helped me to paint. We were in love, made love with a detached and critical virtuosity, but then we fell into silence terrible and the foam of beer glasses was getting as tow, be warmed and contracted as we looked and felt that it was time. La Maiga had to get up and looked round the room useless. More than once I saw her admire her body in the mirror, take the breasts with her hands as the statues eyes Syrian and passed through the skin in a slow caress. I could never resist the urge to call her by my side, feeling it slowly fall on me, unfold again after having been for a while so lonely and so in love against the eternity of your body.
 
    At that time did not talk much of Ricardo, the pleasure was selfish and we came across his forehead moaning, we were bound with their hands full of salt. I came to accept the disorder Maiga as the natural condition of every moment he spent in Ricardo evocation of a plate of reheated noodles, mixing wine and beer and lemonDE, down to the old race to the corner we opened two dozen oysters, playing the piano melodies Nougat Madame shelling Schubert and Bach purelyDes, or tolerating Porgy and Bess with grilled steak and pickled cucumbers. The mess in which we lived, IE the order in which a bidet is becoming by natural and gradual work in a nightclub and answer correspondence file, it seemed a necessary discipline but would not tell the Maiga. I had been very little understanding that the Maiga had to be asked in terms methodical reality, the praise of the disorder as much as would have shocked his complaint. For her there was disorder, I knew it the moment I discovered the contents of your bag (it was in a cafe in the Rue Rumour, it rained and we began to wish), while I accepted and favored after being identified; of these disadvantages was maDE my relationship with most of the world, and how often, lying on a bed or lIE down on many days, listening to mourn the subway Maiga because a boy had brought the memory of Ricardo, or seeing combing after spending the afternoon before the portrait of Eleanor of Aquitaine and wait to be dead like her, I thought as a kind of mental burp the alphabet all of my life was a painful stupidity because it was a mere movement dialectical, in the choice of a behavior rather than a behavior, a modicum of indecency rather than a gregarious decency. La Maiga comb, ruffled, turned to comb. I thought of Ricardo, sang some of Hugo Wolf (bad), he kissed me, I wondered about the hair, he would draw on a piece of paper yellow, and so while I was there it indissolubly, in a deliberately dirty bed, drinking a beer deliberately warm, it was always me and my life with my life against the lives of others. But so was pretty proud to be a vague conscious and below moons and moons, countless adventures where Ronald Maiga and Ricardo, and the club and the streets and my moral diseases and other Pierre’s, and Berthe Treat and hunger sometimes and I pulled out old Trolley bail, under music nights and vomited vile snuff and thin and swaps of all kinds, either below or above it all did not want to pretend like the Bohemians to use this chaos of pocket was a higher order of mind or any other label equally rotten, and had not wanted to accept as sufficient decency (decent young!) to leave so much cotton stains. And so I had encountered the Maiga, which was my witness and my spy without knowing it, and irritation of thinking about all that and knowing that as I always cost much less to think that being, which in my case the little phrase ergo ergo was not any such thing, and thus we were on the left bank, the Maiga without knowing it was my spy and my witness, I greatly admire my diverse knowledge and mastery of the literature and even the cool jazz, mysteries enormous to it.