mirror mirror . . .

Tuesday, December 16, 2008

Lyon to Paris


I cam into Paris via thumb. What a day of hitchhiking!

*For the purposes of this story, let me only recount the details of my sour ride from Lyon to Paris.

I suppose it wasn’t really so bad. It is always elating to be on the open highway in some foreign country, with the wind blowing in your hair. However, your company is impertinent, and in this particular instance, my company was revolting. He was a round man, and I remember him as if in overalls. He couldn’t have been a day under 60, really.

The entire ride was a battle, but sill I maintained the persona I had created as a form of entertainment for others, for nothing is free. It was this person whom chatted with lonely truck drivers and empty transplanted citizens of foreign cities. could I help it if at times they became enamored, drunk on the joy of beholding another human's presence? I could not. I could only say no.

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