Agnès and Jules saw nothing better to do then
going for new demijohns of wine. I imagine
me playing that saxophone ... must have sound
horrible to them ... impompé poudené poudenasca
... impompé ... Once they came back ... middle
of the night. Sloshed, injured, because they'd
fallen in a ditch, while I sat there waiting
with my sardines bean stew . At night Agnès
still zipped her sleeping bag onto mine, but
during the day she was always with Jules.
For me time to do some bird watching in the
dunes. I couldn't figure out that Jules guy.
On the one hand he could charm people, and
then again he rebuffed them . I don't think
he was very fond of me. And he made me feel
a bit uncomfortable. Especially when he started
arguing. One time I was talking about what sense
it made about something. Sense ... he said, is
a concept, a word, a people thing. The world
already rotated perfectly when there was no
mankind. And will continue to do so when there
are no more people. So let's make the best of it.
His motto was : what ever ... That made me sick.
That way you could nip any discussion.
