Court with scrap (and society women)

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I see that that. Yesterday, Bertrand Séguin points itself, his mask of welder under the arm, the burned hands. One is drunk one of them. Sophie calls and announces her arrival: the evening, it is inouï. Then Bertrand calls Kathia which jumps in a taxi. Have not seen for ten years and never heard its voice because it was too timid then: however, it prepares an album, sings divinement and will make its beginnings on the boards in two weeks (incarnant Gertrude in Hamlet Malécite ). To four, one chooses words of songs in my reserve, and K translates his model for us, a piece hot and upsetting in Montagnais, the speech of a foetus to his/her mother. After their departure, I will piss but one knocks with the door. I appear myself that they forgot something, but it is my cousin, JF Moran, which is framed in the casing. Wanted to see whether I there were before going down again to seek his blonde, which is afraid of the elevators. Ironically, JF works with the same producer that Kathia and they have just crossed in the hall without knowing. Later, when they leave, it is Éric which arrives with a bottle of vodka and much of questions on the machine literature. Thus, without moving of the Bunker, I spent the hours with three of the most beautiful society women, of which one that I adore and who returns it to me, and I pinté myself to the paddle and I made my job by refilant texts with a promising artist.