[...] What the hell (I was in Paris). Afterwards I walked along the Seine in the early evening where groups of friends and lovers were drinking wine and picnicking on coats spread out on the grass (as the sun was going down). I sat on the grass (a couple with bare feet were sleeping on a blanket right next to me) until nearly ten o’clock when I guessed my friend would probably be home by now (either that or I would be sleeping on the grass next to them for the night, which actually appealed to me, in a way) but even so I went to one more bar but looking at all the unattainable women drinking on the pavement (with beautiful heels on and nylons and with handbags overflowing with personal stuff and their own lives that had nothing to do with mine) made me melancholy for the first time and I felt old, somehow (or too young), and wanted to go home.