le diner des mange touts

Tonight i will have to eat with one of my favourite ghosts.Colette will be there and we will cover our heads with huge damasse napkins and devour entire teenyweeny fried birds called"ortolans"underneath our cover and the juice will seep down our cheeks and into our rosenthal" porcelaine" plates .We eat the britlle bones ,we chat in between the subtle cracking of the carcass between our teeth.So ,how was it that you seduced betrand ma chere?And how is it that we always tend to write the stuff and then...it happens.I wipe my face with the soft cloth and spend an hour with her murmuring about her sublime prosestyle while i eat with my fingers plunging both my hands in a bowl of rich red fruit and spraying cream down my throat .She loves women.I don’t in that way.The oyster is an oyster is for me.To be eaten at la Coupole where we once had a christmas dinner when all were still alive, the most beloved ones could laugh and be grumpy and be there.Now you tell me that you had big round belly and still he loved you.Do you know madame Colette that my mother and sister laughed at me age eleven when i had read your Gigi and perfectly understood the decadence of your story.It could not be true, i was supposed to be a child.I still am.There has to be a standard truth for everything n’est ce pas..But there isn’t, so lets eat more and drink .Otherwise i shall die of thurst beside this fountain. We are in space with the mangetouts, are’nt we ??