The Lost Generation II (inspired by Woody Allen)

“I feel sorry for you”, said the man and disappeared in the bowels of the metro. Walking around Paris with a crutch was indeed not easy. I was against bringing it in the first place. It´s so diminishing for a man. But after a lot of insisting on the part of my girlfriend I gave in.  

It was a warm and sunny September day. We met my aunt for lunch and then walked all the way to the right bank to have a coffee and a cake in an outdoor café. We sipped our drinks looking at the hustle and bustle of the Parisian life. I told my aunt Paris was great but it was not what it used to be. We laughed over it and she punched me in the mouth.

In the evening we went to see a theatre show and then grabbed a late-night dinner in Brasserie Lipp in Boulevard Saint Germain. Simone de Beauvoir was not there. Instead, we ran into Woody Allen. He was in town shooting his latest film. We told him his latest films were good but not great. We laughed over it. Then he punched us in the mouth.

We left after midnight. Our hotel near Gare de l´est was smelly but comfy. We fell asleep just as the first flickers of the new dawn appeared in the east. I had a dream in which my girlfriend had a Dali-like moustache. She was drawing giraffes in aquarelle. I woke up and hit my head on the reading lamp. It was time to leave Paris.

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