4 Days in France (Jours de France)

FOUR DAYS IN FRANCE

...understand them

and instil from the inside

a new way of approaching thought.

How could we talk about this deconstruction...

On the 14th, I was happy

I suck...

I suck cock and take it up the ass just outside Sens

Me too

Jean-Pierre speaking.

Hello, I found your number in a washroom on the A5.

Which rest area?

The Montard one, I think.

Take the next exit.

Then follow the main road to Sens.

In Villeneuve-l'Archevêque turn left

onto the D84 to Les Sièges and Les Cerisiers.

Carry straight on out of the town

until a junction

and turn left onto the D141,

to Coulours. Got that?

Yes.

As you leave Coulours,

turn right at the crossroads onto the D54 to Vaudeurs,

then the second on the right.

Take that road, Rue Du Bel Air, then Rue des Quatre Vents.

I live at number 9,

a white house with a tall lime tree.

The door is always open. I'll be waiting.

Second on the right...

Road closed

Navigation.

Country of destination: France.

Town: Vaudeurs.

There. Street...

Turn left.

I turn left.

Turn right.

I turn right.

Let's see...

At the end of the street, turn right...

Hello?

It's you, Solange.

A bad time?

I'm leaving. Can I call you back?

Any time.

Sorry. I'll call tomorrow.

Goodbye, Paul.

Così at 8 at the Opéra Comique. Forgotten?

In 45 minutes outside?

Hello.

My car's broken down and I have a work appointment.

- Can you help? - If you like.

Where are you going?

I don't know.

I'm going to Montargis. It isn't far.

Ok, get in.

Thank you.

I'll just get my things.

Wait a second...

Sorry. I don't like being touched.

No, I should apologize.

I'm not a very good hitchhiker.

Can you read the road signs?

All right...

Warning.

Danger or something. Wild animals.

Say the first thing that comes to mind.

I don't mind silence.

Don't think about it.

Kylie Minogue.

Again.

Blank page.

Projection.

Politeness.

The single.

I still have it.

Well, I had it.

Grass.

Lungs.

Say.

Say nothing.

Camille Maurane.

Fauré.

France.

Fire.

Odd ring-tone... What does it mean?

Your turn.

Quick.

Bitch.

Spring is a bitch.

Steak. Disease.

River. Matter. Stump.

The ring-tone.

Again?

It's getting excited.

We're approaching a town.

End of the 70 kmph speed limit.

I don't see the connection.

It's like a satnav

that signals all connected and available men,

indicating their exact position.

There are obviously more messages in urban areas.

Pick up the phone.

Take a look.

- I press here? - Go on.

Let me see...

"Jean 243.

Nice pecs.

482 metres away."

He writes: "Hi", then "U", then "N2", with a question mark.

Ok...

Should I answer?

If you want.

Write, in full:

"Unavailable, sorry."

He didn't ask that.

Ok...

So write...

"Quick hook-up.

Versatile.

Anal. Safe."

Versatile?

I can be active or passive,

depending on Jean,

the mood,

the moment...

So you have no set desires?

Sometimes.

Rarely.

I desire what the other desires of me.

I play the role he wants me to.

In that case,

if he has no set desires, what do you do?

We can switch roles.

Or, in some cases,

there's animal recognition, like for dogs

who instinctively know who'll be what.

You mentioned Camille Maurane...

Yes.

He's France's greatest baritone.

The greatest for mélodie anyhow.

- Do you like music? - Yes.

Do you sing mélodies too?

No.

In retirement homes, it's more

old French songs or standards,

or even Michèle Torr today.

I started in church, with choral singing,

then lieder and mélodies, then...

I lacked discipline and talent, so I work in retirement homes.

I used to love it.

I love old people and country roads.

Now, I see only the ugliness.

Smocks, chairs, door handles...

Those huge handles,

like curved tubes...

Maybe they're easier to decontaminate.

And the colours...

those yellowish hues...

Hideous.

They had no effect on a 25-year-old face and mind.

But now...

Anyhow...

Anyhow, as the Queen of England said...

Thank you.

Do you want to see the show?

I could do Clair de lune for you.

No, thank you.

I'll wait here.

I'll be an hour or so.

Good evening.

Good evening.

Sorry, my car broke down.

A stranger and his guitar

On a street shrouded in fog

Sang, yes sang, a song

Repeated by his two companions

Marjolaine, you're so pretty

Marjolaine, spring blooms with you

Marjolaine, I used to be a soldier

But today I return to your side

She had told him: I'll wait for you

He had said: I shall come back

Still a child when he left

He is a man on his return

Marjolaine, you're so pretty

Marjolaine, I didn't lie to you

Marjolaine, I was a soldier

But today I come back to you

He went away for ten years

But ten years changed everything

Nothing is the same and on the streets

He recognized nothing but the sky

Marjolaine, you are so pretty

Marjolaine, spring quickly flees

Marjolaine, I know all too well

That a lost love never returns

A stranger and his guitar

Vanished into the fog