Well, honey, I’m almost free, and the métro line 12 seems to be working a bit tonight (disent les journaux). I’m going to try to come — with no guarantees, alas, because I don’t know how the situation might evolve (and if I won’t end up with a gouged eye or a burst testicle). Paris est atroce. J’ai très peur, I’m so afraid, but, ok, ok, give me an invitation and another one for the bodyguard who accompanies me on riot days (I have to find him until tonight). 😘 YN
Labels: correspondance