Paris Page #4

the theory of direct taxation

under Dagobert! Yes, sir!

Remember my old professor, Vignard?

The thesis advisor

who liked you so much.

I don't want to become Vignard.

He's become this hideous old fossil,

rambling on about stuff

that interests nobody.

I feel like, if I go on like this,

giving my little courses,

skulking around libraries,

consulting absurd archives,

I'm doomed

to become Vignard - a rat!

A rat!

Maybe it's na?ve, but

I've always thought knowledge

was about opening the mind,

a kind of awakening.

But Vignard scares me.

I'm afraid of his obsession

with historical minutia,

his maniacal, obsessive side.

These days,

everything seems pathetic to me.

You ought to take up squash again!

Your classes going okay?

Yes. They're fine.

The other day in class,

I had a genuine illumination.

Apropos of what we already

know about Haussmann

and his rectilinear layout

of the avenues,

I'd like to touch upon gardens

and the relationship

between the city and nature.

Three students

have prepared presentations

on three spatial approaches,

reflecting three ways of thinking:

French gardens, English gardens,

and Japanese gardens.

Which garden

is your presentation on?

- French gardens.

- Go ahead.

When I saw that magnificent girl,

I thought beauty really is horrible.

Added to youth,

it's completely unfair.

Almost indecent.

I studied her face, her eyebrows,

her eyes, her mouth.

Her face was sublime.

And I thought, why?

Why her? Why is she so beautiful?

And why are all the others so...

not ugly... but, let's say,

banal, invisible?

There's something horrible...

Beauty really is disgusting!

Did you see her after class?

That's not his style.

Well, I almost did.

Really? And?

Obviously, some kid beat me to it.

The idea of waiting on line

was depressing.

Then I overheard what she told him.

What did she say?

Laetitia!

She said,

"0603

"435363."

That telephone number

was engraved in my brain.

Maybe it was its musical quality,

with its repetition of threes.

Or its progressive quality -

Anyway, it was like a magic formula.

So it stayed with me.

Did you approach her?

Did you call her?

Worse.

I sent a text message.

A text message?

A text message.

I followed her after class.

I masked my own cell phone number.

She went for coffee

and I sent her a text.

I pretended to be a young guy.

I know. It's moronic.

- What?

- Why?

Because I'm an old fart!

Trying to see her

seemed out of place.

What did you write?

I wrote, uh...

We R in class 2 gether

U R awesome

I'm 2 hot 4 U

Oh, no. You didn't?

Yeah.

"U R awesome. I'm 2 hot 4 U."

You okay?

We just got here.

We're sleeping over.

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