A long, late summer afternoon is cause for easy pleasure with whatever arises today, whether it be errands, correspondence, a lengthy phone conversation, a backache.
Wind runs through the fading foliage unevenly and the sun makes its slow descent. Like us all.
Among the prime concerns in the French media for this « rentrée » is a book by a leading bad-boy French author, Michel Houllebecq. A radio commentator this morning raved about it, saying how marvelously the author revealed what a horrible place the world is. The main character is an artist who says he prefers the map to the territory. (The book’s title is La carte et la territoire.)
What a thought!
Here’s another: There is no map!
Now the cat trots over after her nap. Bells are ringing in the nearby church. I’m gently reminded that it’s time to dress and go out for the evening. And I finish my glass of water.