On the sidewalk in front of the bar with the beautiful name kessélien – Jumper – takes care of his wife, Ayyam, he crunches his pipe to the Maigret, waving it in the air with his fingers blackened by the tobacco as the conversation heats up. The place, which opened three months ago near the place of the Republic, says it all already by François Sureau. A la carte, cocktails with strange names like “Afghan cosmo” or “Kepi blanc”. The children and friends spend time, former afghan refugees converted back to servers run bolées of sausage. Officers clink glasses alongside students and lawyers. You can meet Bernard Cazeneuve, as Elisabeth Lévy. On the floor, braided rugs, wall posters of the Legion, and… reproduction giant of a Release the day of the death of jean-paul Sartre, with this extract of Words : “What I love in my madness is that she protected me…” We asked her: “Ah good, you’re sartrien, you? I would have rather said camusien”. He replied: “Yes, because Sartre at the bottom was a christian, more christian than Camus.” …

I log

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