I'll try to wait until my departure from Kathmandu to begin to regain the "lost time" and I'm practicing on a literary way to write the scripts of my short films from “Le CLAC”. If I'm very happy with the text "Mon Berlin", it is however very little alive. Just as well, I would like the short film to be felt as a poetic stroll.
My finances are doing very well, Michel is finally in possession of my credit card, and he will send it to me when I’ll ask. Danny helps me out on my Berliner account and I found to be a hundred dollars more than I thought on my Parisian one.
"Puri is a decadent city, with its dilapidated old Victorian homes ..." says the guide. These are sufficient indications to justify a visit to this seaside resort in the tropics. If there could be a place with an atmosphere similar to my hotel in Jaipur, I think being able to stay there a bit. Christmas and New Year at the beach, it would be quite tempting.
I try to enjoy the moments of greatest freedom in my life, perhaps, even if accompanied by solitude or because they accompany it, the feeling is great and true. In return, I will know better how to appreciate the chains. I welcome my own little four walls of Paris, which not only reached me somewhere in what could be otherwise aimlessly wandering, but in addition, give me a little more credibility to my friends.
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