poulet roti

cab drivers with old, old jazz playing. wind and gray moody skies. fiending for the economist and bbc and cnn because i can understand the language. discovering the one black gay club (exotique club) in paris with brandon, and that bitch gets all the attention! handsome black dancer/waiter smirks at my attempts to order poulet roti (poo-lay) in francais. seeing black and asian people speak french. la fontaine du saint michel. melatonin. weaning myself off constaint daily e-mail checks. cave grotto-like urinals. the seine. cigarette smoke. staring down champs-elyseés. the instant, touching hospitality of friends of friends. to the 5'10" mixed black and white woman with the blond mohair purse and mini-afro that you twisted into pigtails in five minutes flat while sitting down and putting away your carry-on bag: respect.