“What kind of woman does that?” Solange said, her eyes fixed intently not on me, but on the screen.
We went to the cinema more to escape the rain than to watch the film. 159 more words
Never mind the French … garbage in the streets.
Its smell is actually better than the stinking cigares on café terrasses, the toxic diesel particles in the streets (especially for kids and dogs and dwarves with their nose lower, and possibly better, than ours), and the dirty hands of too many French (politicians, but not only). 106 more words