The French version of "Black is Black" is playing on the stereo (it sounds like Johnny Halliday), and a group at the bar is trying their best to sing along. They did better with the one two songs ago, getting almost all the words right, though that one was admittedly slower, more repetitive, and not a ripoff of an American tune.
Chairs are stacked up on the tables in the back room, but no one seems to be going anywhere anytime soon. Needless to say, I got a bit of a late start writing today, but leave it to Paris to always have a place available to get a coffee in the middle of the night. With sugar cubes. And a really nasty yellow metal ashtray that looks like it hasn't been cleaned since it was forged in antiquity. The place seemed too good to be true when I stumbled across it, so I immediately went up to the bar (it's a small place with a relatively small bar counter) and asked "A coffee? It's possible?", to which the woman replied "Of course!" and I sat down and all was right with the world. There are at this moment eleven people crowded around the bar. Don't these people ever sleep?
Oops, now the chairs are being stacked up in this room. I had better leave before I am up-ended.
Sugar: packet of sugar cubes
Copyright © 2002 David Sadegh.
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