It Was The Men I Deceived The

People Come To Paris, To The Capital, To Give Their Lives A Sense Of Belonging, Of An Almost Mythical Participation In Society.

War Is A Generality, So Are The Inevitabilities Of War, Including Death.

A Prolonged Silence Ensues. The Reason For The Silence Is Our Growing Interest One For The Other. No One Is Aware Of It, No One Yet; No One? Am I Quite Sure?

Some People Are Like That - Closed - They Can't Learn From Anyone. Us, For Example, We Can't Learn Anything, Neither I From You Nor You From Me, Nor From Anyone, Nor From Anything, Nor From What Happens.

A Woman's Work, From The Time She Gets Up To The Time She Goes To Bed, Is As Hard As A Day At War, Worse Than A Man's Working Day. ... To Men, Women's Work Was Like The Rain-bringing Clouds, Or The Rain Itself. The Task Involved Was Carried Out Every Day As Regularly As Sleep. So Men Were Happy - Men In The Middle Ages, Men At The Time Of The Revolution, And Men In 1986: Everything In The Garden Was Lovely.