Public transportation in Qatar is nonexistent. I exaggerate. Come to think of it – no, I don’t. There are taxis, those once-in-a-blue-moon Karwa taxis, and Mowasalat buses; but they are like apparitions, or desert mirages – gone before you realise they’re there. Poof! Before the Karwa taxis, the National taxis, or “orange” taxis, ruled the...
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Scenes from the country house
Julien is in the garden with my beau-père. He has a huge machine for cutting grass strapped across his chest, whose scientific name is probably A Grass Cutter. He is sporting gloves and protective goggles and is moving this ghastly machine in a rhythmic sideways motion. Grass is flying about. Beside him is my beau-père,...
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It’s not what it seems, it’s not what it seems
I’m sitting under the sun with the cat this unusually warm Sunday afternoon in Lyon (it’s been raining ever since we arrived), eating saucisson and getting piss drunk, dreading the day I have to return to 45°C weather. Yesterday we went to a Totoro shop. I wanted to buy a Totoro stuffed toy but I...
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Spring and by Summer Fall
Certain things have changed in Aix. When we passed by the residence we used to live in a few days ago, a whole bus depot had been constructed just at the entrance of the gate – the grass and hills and flowers had been replaced by buses and lines of people. I used to walk...
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