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Jun. 18th, 2014 10:37 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tire_moi_mes_bottesSince the disappearance of his room, Laigle has essentially lived at the Bar, tucked into a corner that gives him a good view. He's watching for his door. Watching for his door and feverishly studying: there are a thousand ideas to bring home, practical and abstract, ranging from particulars of the weather in Paris in June of 1832 to advanced radical analyses of class warfare.
On his left he has a stack of books not yet read, a bottle of wine and a glass, and a pot of coffee. On his right he has a stack of books to re-read if he gets the chance, and a collection of empty wine bottles. In front of him, a notebook divided between extracts from readings and commentary thereon, and miscellaneous reminders. --Demon invasion from another universe 2001, 2023 --GAVROCHE --Germs, sanitation: cholera a micro-organism. alcohol? boiling --Tell Jolllllllllllllly about the cats --Charles Jeanne --Hugo unreliable in '48 --motor cycle, vélocipède, draysienne --Tell Combeferre about fountain pens, ball points --Cobol, Koballe, something like that? --Women's suffrage? --Mystery stories, criminal investigation sensational --Learn German, Russian
He has a system: after every other page that he fills, he switches between wine and coffee, stretches, and looks again for his door.
--
And he's gone.
On the floor of a Paris café, Bossuet blinks up at a square of newsprint: The rule of law is interrupted, that of force has begun. In the situation in which we are placed, obedience ceases to be a duty. Next to him, someone begins swearing in a tone of profound relief. "Christ, Lesgle, I thought you were dead. You were dead, I'd swear to it. --No, I wouldn't, not to Combeferre, he'll shoot me on the spot for falling asleep when I was watching the wounded. Don't tell Joly either, will you? My God, I was sure you were dead, don't do that again..."
((And I'm out of town for a few days, so it seems like a good time for Bossuet to skip back to Paris and 1830. Will he remember his Marx and his germ theory? Will all his friends think he's gone mad? Who knows! Tune in to next week's Brief Days of our Revolutionary Lives...))
On his left he has a stack of books not yet read, a bottle of wine and a glass, and a pot of coffee. On his right he has a stack of books to re-read if he gets the chance, and a collection of empty wine bottles. In front of him, a notebook divided between extracts from readings and commentary thereon, and miscellaneous reminders. --Demon invasion from another universe 2001, 2023 --GAVROCHE --Germs, sanitation: cholera a micro-organism. alcohol? boiling --Tell Jolllllllllllllly about the cats --Charles Jeanne --Hugo unreliable in '48 --motor cycle, vélocipède, draysienne --Tell Combeferre about fountain pens, ball points --Cobol, Koballe, something like that? --Women's suffrage? --Mystery stories, criminal investigation sensational --Learn German, Russian
He has a system: after every other page that he fills, he switches between wine and coffee, stretches, and looks again for his door.
--
And he's gone.
On the floor of a Paris café, Bossuet blinks up at a square of newsprint: The rule of law is interrupted, that of force has begun. In the situation in which we are placed, obedience ceases to be a duty. Next to him, someone begins swearing in a tone of profound relief. "Christ, Lesgle, I thought you were dead. You were dead, I'd swear to it. --No, I wouldn't, not to Combeferre, he'll shoot me on the spot for falling asleep when I was watching the wounded. Don't tell Joly either, will you? My God, I was sure you were dead, don't do that again..."
((And I'm out of town for a few days, so it seems like a good time for Bossuet to skip back to Paris and 1830. Will he remember his Marx and his germ theory? Will all his friends think he's gone mad? Who knows! Tune in to next week's Brief Days of our Revolutionary Lives...))
