Margui Speaks Up

The last thing I did today was to get some dirt in order to cover up a geranium branch that I found fallen from a windiw in avenue de Choisy yesyerday. A burial, indeed, but one which gives life and new dignity to this fallen geranium. I will call him Jon or Edmond, or Egmont. I am happy we are two in this room, now. He is happy and red, and promising. Before that I was at the Panthéon, and precisely in rue de la Montaigne de Sainte Geneviève, where I spotted a Tibetan restaurant - well, we think a lot on Tibetans, but not that they eat something that they are used to prepare themselves - this is why I got surprised to find that restaurant, probably. Before that I was in a record-shop, open at 10 pm, full of dear old stuff, especially classical and jazz. The owner was dressed as cyclist and just come back from a 210 km tour until the (northern French) sea. He was making jokes at me, a bit blutantly, so that I was happier before, when I discovered a café called La Méthode just in ru