Didn't Have to Love Me.

It's a perfectly cold day in Lille and I just finished "Pulp" by Charles Bukowski at Le President Cafe in the town's square. Very much enjoyed this book, Bukowski's knack for creating horribly pitiful characters makes me laugh. Now it's on to Proust, "Swann's Way." I give this book a big ol' fancy B for fucking boring.

My train back to Paris is departing in an hour and I am just around the corner. Once again stealing internet from the MacDoh, we seem to be inseparable. Got to walk around Lille yesterday in what is comparable to the downtown area of Chicago. Consumeristic was that! I'm pretty excited to go back to Paris and get down on mah studies.

The first night in Lille, went to this neighborhood bar filled with oldies and more oldies. It was like a painting, can't say who the artist is. Maybe "Potato Eaters" by Van Gogh, but don't want to underestimate the art. All of them seemed to have a story, like everyone. One guy told about his mother who had recently just died and of his depression and another gentle, homely lookin' fella told about how he liked talking to young adults as they were very interesting and kind. I felt at home with the homely's. With every beer, came free saucisson.

Time to boogie.

Ciao, yalls.

<3