:14:04
I'd been granted
a glimpse of Heaven...
:14:06
then dumped on the sidewalk
at rue d'Assas.
:14:09
I still have no idea
why you're telling me all this.
:14:12
I'd always wanted
to be a writer.
:14:16
My grandfather...
:14:18
made a fortune in the surgical
appliance business...
:14:21
and set up a trust fund for me.
:14:23
On his death,
I found myself in receipt...
:14:26
of sufficient allowance
to enable me to move to Paris.
:14:35
Paris...
:14:37
my dream city.
:14:39
Hemingway, Miller...
:14:41
Scott Fitzgerald.
:14:42
I was determined to follow
in their footsteps...
:14:46
maybe too determined
for my own good.
:14:49
Maybe that's what killed any
originality I ever possessed.
:14:53
After eight years,
all I had to show...
:14:56
for my literary exertions were
three unpublished novels...
:14:59
and a stack
of reject slips this high.
:15:03
But who cared?
:15:05
Sidewalk cafes...
:15:06
fluttering skirts...
:15:08
fleeting affairs.
:15:10
Paris was heaven
until that day on the bus.
:15:38
Et tu m'aides?
:15:48
It was no good.
:15:51
I couldn't write,
couldn't sleep...
:15:54
couldn't get her out of my mind.
:15:57
She was somewhere out there...