An evening (among others) at the Bar Des Amis
Ash, Pillow and me what we gonna do now that is fart, Ash deuspi open, well, we need only go to Pillow, since there nothing else to do. Starting a collective movement - like the vast Soph is with us, with his Slavic cheekbones and his voice hoarse bass sexy, tipsy though, I did not blunder.
We cross-Cyr Cyr - damn, that must make that area a while there, they have already finished storing the bar - who asked if there would be no chance of coke, he said Candre no, but cons, well, take that, she spins her pocket half white, he will repay it one of these days, unless this is already returning the favor, allowed there with his mates. Slight gauhe in the cross street, crowded street Colombette is will not wait to be home for Pillow banging track, anyway? Damn, we should have gone in the stairwell of the building the bar, Ash still has the key to the time when she lived above There is never anyone in there besides the trash container, perfect for plotting.
A hundred yards away, a beautiful bright red jalopy, a hood, it's great, it's a red hood, go hop! White on red is a bit like white snow, but in reverse, too cool. Ash deposits a small pile of powder on the metallic paint, vital card, I'm not sure the speed that car bodies to do good, actually, but who cares, Mr. producer, it is not for us, this car ... Soph berates us as what is nawak there, in the street, and it is true that in the street, not a street, but at the same time he is two and a half hours in the morning and n 'is someone who goes and who cares and do they really exist people? Everyone goes on his line, which rolled with a note that a portion of McDonald's straw that is still waiting in a pocket, not Sophie, it's not his thing, Soph is more in alcohol. With one finger that does not like waste, helped in one eye scrutineer, I retrieve the scattered fragments of altered consciousness on the cover.
Hey, Pato (the owner of the Bar Des Amis, I remind those who do not) joined us, he is there with his bike trying to mumble with his expatriate Marseilles accent (I always assumed, without seeking to know really, he was barred from there because of a history of dope), that he often grumble. But then, well, certainly he has a good reason, because, Ash, it becomes anything there, just out of the harbor he came upon Cyr-Cyr in the process of typing on a container beams recycled paper, and now, not even two blocks away, the dream team on a hood of car, you may still be a little more discreet, shit, whatever. Coherent discourse, but it does well even laugh when he goes back on his bike to go home, boss promised the next time it will take a less conspicuous car, will have to consider decamping. Soph
from his side towards the center, leaving us wide-eyed, full extra-party, the ball chemical directly typed into the target bonus, wow. He may be nearly three hours now, it's great day in the head, because everything is wonderfully clear. Go hop, house, and in this case, the house is in Pillow. Anyway it's dead here, we will return in this box. Three streets
fall further, instead of the church and its Colombette immensely ugly, you come across Julius Dreadlock and Cobra, two members of Brahimfeedback, a group with whom you play regularly and we see more regularly 's self-Maraver liver in bars. They come to a closure, like us, and are departing from a friend we do not know, and right now it's okay, yes, they are in the studio but tonight it is still hard, and about, not plan for the DC by any chance? No, but hey, we need only make a line of speed on a windowsill, it's very smooth stone or old or very regular, not serious, they're underway, we are the masters the world is not the local topography that will stop us .... Something in my head seems to tell me something, a communication between hemispheres that I find hard to decipher, there are the words "place of Colombette" and "corner fliquer" and indeed it is probably the car cops to west from my field of vision that sparked this thought brilliant. I point out quite quietly - not in fact, not too quietly, indeed, that "Conde, Condé, Conde! "Ash and sweeps with a sweep of the entire stock perf amphetamines ready to be charged in motorway sections, go hop leaves, take that, it will do you good ...
Obviously, flicmobile stop, vaguely trying to look for anything, but between our eyes and our heads exploded not very clear peaks, dread, it's a lost cause in the ass. 'Identity check ladies and gentlemen ... "
Everyone politely although a lot little feverishly identity card or driving license, except me, since I have neither one nor the other on hand, but I have my credit card cons sir officer, there's my name above, and my date of validity as well.
Looking slightly amused but unfathomable scornful of the judicial police officer.
Is it because we do not return because they saw Ash chuck it all, or because we are not quite tanned, he is still vaguely that they check n ' Patrice Alegre was not and is barred, relief, phew.
all fours in the leaves dead, seek not see much hope if we can find something, hey hey I found the pouch ah shit it is empty ... Frankly, it's disgusting, swing speed like that of the wild, while I wear my good gaff used batteries for recycling ...
Two grams, it was cheap, it was really a case, ordinary evening.
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