Say hello to Bozo

Life's a circus, that's why.

Getting up this morning after a bitchy party last night. Was in the "Suite Présidentielle" at the Fouquet's (8 grands a night !) where a fashion shooting took place all day long yesterday. Gossip girls from the most famous magasines, Vogue, Elle, Glamour and so on and so forth. Champagne, Petit fours, cigarets and smokes all around. Faint music in the background just to remember that everything around you is fake. Kinda crazy night.

At 11 p.m we're kicked out of the room. My friend and I go down to the Bar to have a drink and smoke a Cohiba cigar before going home and back to real life… sort of anyway.

It's 2 a.m. and we're in the streets. I'm walking home. It's not so much as a journey than a meditative outcome of the night. The night was fancy but it does not mean that it had to be vain. Pick up the phone to talk to Her. Back to real life I told you. It's almost four in the morning when we hang on and I fell asleep as quickly as I felt depressed and/or relieved. Things should be simpler I guess, but this is not the point. I'll get by anyway and starting overs are not believed to be always that easy to manage, at least when it's worth something and I believe it is.

9.15 pm back in the street after such a strange night. Walking back to work as I shall do. Nice suit, good breath, no tie, music in my hears. I walk in fron of La Bourse and police is everywhere to keep an eye on the latest happening of homelesses. They camp right there in the street, ready to be evicted by the "force de l'ordre". Protect order, obey orders. 100 tents in the middle of the street are quite a mess. That's what it cost to tell everyone that you might freeze to death in the coming weeks. It's not that faincy and to some point this is kinda vain. For what would happen when the cameras will leave the spot?

Life's a circus, told you