Our Man (polite man) in Europe/here comes Johnny Love Muscle/-I dont win the NOBEL PRIZE/Part 666:
"Marie-Claude, a' Paris..."
"I'm a Doctor. I don't get sick!"
she says, brushing back her long, auburn hair, and directly straightening her "medicalli" business skirt.
YOWSA!
Naturally (she's a Doc.) I want to tell her my aches and pains; she? -how difficult IT IS to learn Flamenco guitar....?
We are equally at a loss/thank GOD for Vin Rouge & Calvados.
Children? Yes. On both sides, plus? -we both smoke like chimneys.
Brassai/Miguel Cianca? -those photo Maestros, one day, will arrive to shoot-the-"Shoot!"
-a'la black-white-silhoutte photos, outside of 'Cafe Rendezvous des Amis', Montmartre...
A hundred years later, some kid/student will see the pixs (we end up on picture postcards), gets inspired and writes a frickin' Poem...!?
...Me?... (present tense) I'll be quite dead....
Marie-Claude? She'll stick her tongue out, to the student, to Brassai & Miguel.
"Bah" (or "Merde!") she'll say:
"I'm a Doctor!... Unlike Davide?... I DON'T get sick!"...:)
c 2012/davedelacroix/Piacenza/italia/This is THE END of this book-blog/arrividerci ragazzi!!!!...:)
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