So on the métro yesterday, I was sitting near a fellow folkloric human. He was sitting pretty, goth garb and all, reading Entretien avec un vampire. His labret piercing was a fucking SPEAR. We exchanged glances, vampire and I.
It was past 23h, so i was in prime wolf mode. I eventually exited the #4 line métro car - getting off at Raspail - but the fond memories of Vampire remain. Demain, will I encounter a Yeti on the #7?
Perhaps a mothman at Châtelet - Les Halles?
So this is Paris. I have been here for only about two weeks now. Have seen Versailles, Pompidou, Giverny, Musée Rodin. Have eaten 10000 palmiers, 10000 sandwiches with jambon cru, and not much else. Wine flows liberally (3 euro may not get you the best bottle of wine, but certainly brings the warm tingle so characteristic of wasting on wine) -- MUST STOP HERE. cannot complete post. Feel a pull from the moon. Must attend to my were-y duties.
you'll probably never run into Cookie Monster at Sully Morland. He's too bashful about his weight in that city to ever poke his googly eyes out at fellow freaks.
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