its tongue. I sense that she's beginning to be afraid. I get up. I want to intervene, I hate such beasts. But finally the dog departs.
After that I drifted through the narrow streets. Completely by chance I went into the Aître Saint-Maclou: a huge and magnificent square courtyard entirely bordered with Gothic sculptures in dark wood.
A bit further on I saw a wedding procession coming out of the church. A truly oldstyle affair; blue-grey suit, white dress and orange blossom, little bridesmaids ... I was sitting on a bench not too far from the church steps.
The bride and groom were getting on a bit. A stocky, rather red-faced man who had the look of a rich peasant; a woman a bit larger than him, with a bony face and glasses. I must say, alas, that the whole thing had something ridiculous about it. Some young people passing by were taking the piss out of the newly-weds. Quite.
For a few minutes I was able to observe all this in a strictly objective manner. And then an unpleasant sensation started to come over me. I got to my feet and quickly left.
Two hours later, night having fallen, I came out of my hotel once again. I ate a pizza, standing up, alone, in an establishment that was deserted - and which deserved to remain so. The pizza pastry was revolting. The decor was made up of squares of white mosaic and wall lamps in brushed steel - you'd have thought yourself in an operating theatre.
Then I went to see a porno movie in the one Rouen cinema specializing in such things. The place was half full, which is pretty good these days. Mainly pensioners and immigrants, of course; there were, however, a few couples.
After a while I was surprised to see that people were often changing seats, and for no apparent reason. Wanting to know the rationale for such behaviour I too changed places, at the same time as another guy. In fact it's very simple: each time a couple arrives they find themselves surrounded by two or three men, who install themselves a few seats away and immediately start to masturbate. Their great wish, I think, is that the woman of the couple cast a glance at their dicks.
I stayed in the cinema for around an hour, then recrossed Rouen to go to the station. A few vaguely menacing beggars were hanging about in the concourse. I didn't take any notice of this and jotted down the train times for Paris.
The next morning I got up early, I arrived in good time for the first train; I bought a ticket, waited, and didn't get on it; and I can't for the life of me think why. It's all very unpleasant.
4
It was the following evening that I took ill. After dinner Tisserand wanted to go to a club; I declined the invitation. My left shoulder was hurting me and I was shivering all over. Returning to the hotel, I tried to sleep but it was no good; once out flat I was unable to breathe. I sat up again; the wallpaper was discouraging.
An hour later I started having difficulty breathing, even sitting up. I made it over to the sink. My colour was cadaverous; the pain had begun its slow descent from the shoulder towards the heart. That's when I said to myself that maybe my condition was serious; I'd clearly overdone the cigarettes of late.
I remained leaning against the sink for some twenty minutes, registering the steady increase of the pain. It vexed me greatly to go out again, to go to the hospital, all that.
Around one in the morning I banged the door shut and went out. By now the pain was clearly localized in the heart region. Each breath cost me an enormous effort, and manifested itself as a muffled wheezing. I was scarcely able to walk, except by taking tiny steps, thirty centimetres at very most. I was constantly obliged to lean against the cars.
I rested for a few minutes against a Peugeot 205, then began the ascent of a street that appeared to lead to a more important crossroads. It took me around half an hour to cover five hundred metres. The pain had stopped getting worse, yet went on being intense. On
After that I drifted through the narrow streets. Completely by chance I went into the Aître Saint-Maclou: a huge and magnificent square courtyard entirely bordered with Gothic sculptures in dark wood.
A bit further on I saw a wedding procession coming out of the church. A truly oldstyle affair; blue-grey suit, white dress and orange blossom, little bridesmaids ... I was sitting on a bench not too far from the church steps.
The bride and groom were getting on a bit. A stocky, rather red-faced man who had the look of a rich peasant; a woman a bit larger than him, with a bony face and glasses. I must say, alas, that the whole thing had something ridiculous about it. Some young people passing by were taking the piss out of the newly-weds. Quite.
For a few minutes I was able to observe all this in a strictly objective manner. And then an unpleasant sensation started to come over me. I got to my feet and quickly left.
Two hours later, night having fallen, I came out of my hotel once again. I ate a pizza, standing up, alone, in an establishment that was deserted - and which deserved to remain so. The pizza pastry was revolting. The decor was made up of squares of white mosaic and wall lamps in brushed steel - you'd have thought yourself in an operating theatre.
Then I went to see a porno movie in the one Rouen cinema specializing in such things. The place was half full, which is pretty good these days. Mainly pensioners and immigrants, of course; there were, however, a few couples.
After a while I was surprised to see that people were often changing seats, and for no apparent reason. Wanting to know the rationale for such behaviour I too changed places, at the same time as another guy. In fact it's very simple: each time a couple arrives they find themselves surrounded by two or three men, who install themselves a few seats away and immediately start to masturbate. Their great wish, I think, is that the woman of the couple cast a glance at their dicks.
I stayed in the cinema for around an hour, then recrossed Rouen to go to the station. A few vaguely menacing beggars were hanging about in the concourse. I didn't take any notice of this and jotted down the train times for Paris.
The next morning I got up early, I arrived in good time for the first train; I bought a ticket, waited, and didn't get on it; and I can't for the life of me think why. It's all very unpleasant.
4
It was the following evening that I took ill. After dinner Tisserand wanted to go to a club; I declined the invitation. My left shoulder was hurting me and I was shivering all over. Returning to the hotel, I tried to sleep but it was no good; once out flat I was unable to breathe. I sat up again; the wallpaper was discouraging.
An hour later I started having difficulty breathing, even sitting up. I made it over to the sink. My colour was cadaverous; the pain had begun its slow descent from the shoulder towards the heart. That's when I said to myself that maybe my condition was serious; I'd clearly overdone the cigarettes of late.
I remained leaning against the sink for some twenty minutes, registering the steady increase of the pain. It vexed me greatly to go out again, to go to the hospital, all that.
Around one in the morning I banged the door shut and went out. By now the pain was clearly localized in the heart region. Each breath cost me an enormous effort, and manifested itself as a muffled wheezing. I was scarcely able to walk, except by taking tiny steps, thirty centimetres at very most. I was constantly obliged to lean against the cars.
I rested for a few minutes against a Peugeot 205, then began the ascent of a street that appeared to lead to a more important crossroads. It took me around half an hour to cover five hundred metres. The pain had stopped getting worse, yet went on being intense. On
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