In life, it’s like in the cinema: there is sound and there is image. Let’s start with the sound. I transcribed my soundtrack (in stereo): tacatacatacatacatacbrrroumbrrroum on one side, grrrzzzgrrrzzzgrrrzzz on the other. Either: the sidewalk smashed with a jackhammer by Gaz de France to “modernize the networks”; and, in the building, a mad drill coupled with a hysterical sander for renovation work. The image, now: grey, gray everywhere. And it’s been going on for days and days. Not the slightest patch of blue sky, not the slightest ray of sunshine. In short: the world is gray. And it makes noise.
Thereupon comes to me, sent by a reader, this news which disturbs me a little more. This is a message from the Damart company specially intended for this reader’s husband: “Dear Sir. Born in winter on January 29, you are generous and creative. The Damart team wishes you a birthday as warm as you are. Thus my correspondent learns, incidentally, that, for the Damart society, her husband is of the female sex. Perplexed, she wonders: “Does the feminine already prevail over the masculine in the realm of underwear? Is the Damart company at the forefront of gender studies? Dear reader, I would like to answer you. But the din paralyzes my neurons and the fog clouds my brain. Especially since boom boom, here are the hammer blows. Sorry.
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