One day with Madonna

So let’s be clear, you get what you paid for and for 120 Euros I expected a minimum!  I got much more than two grams of fun!

My first Madonna concert was in 2003 and I was so disappointed. I had sitting places. I had to watch the screens to see the show and I couldn’t stand up without people behind me screaming for me to sit! I said never ever.

9 years later my great friend Antonio, a real fan, beg me to come with him. This is no more a question of money but with all the greatest respect for Madonna, I still want the entertainment I paid for and I didn’t in 2003! So, I say „Sure why not, but only if we are standing directly at the stage!“ And we did, but not only this, we did the whole warming up, the cheering of the true fans bringing Martin and  Stefan breakfast at their camping spot in front of the door and later on bringing champagne at night. We got to learn all the assembly of the devoted. To learn knowing all those people from Barcelona, Prag, Milan and Paris was such a beautiful first part of the show. After so much waiting the mystery Ipad girl arrived finally but we were not chosen to the golden triangle. Tears of deception were flowing all over but this is the moment were the group became solid and got a new dynamic. We would stay together and because the early access people were looking like coming from the right side we would run to the left. It is 35 hours ago I brought croissants to Martin and at 8:25p.m I stand on the second raw of people, 50 centimeters from the stage,...and I am so much taller with my boots!

I have to admit that the waiting was then almost unbearable. One hour more still, before a fake David Guetta. Yes,  Martin Solveig is also French, has the same hair cut, has the same speeded up pop djaying way when it stops and finally put some basses and everybody should have fun and at the end is even more boring because somewhere is not as big! The „Do you really want the queen?“ shouldn’t have last an hour because then it was 45 minutes more to wait for Madame! Of course this is a part of it and everything is calculated and the exhausting waiting brings you in a state of total release when she finally arrives.

The stage which looked so small took then its all dimension. Three video panels of each 15 meters high and 10 meters wide are placed in a perspective angle behind the stage. In the front 10 different huge video cubes coming up and down with the same animations as the back create a fantastic 3D effect. And this is it, why the 3D when it is live? Maybe just because it will be a video one day or maybe even better a 3D movie, would it be that surprising?

So this is very important because if you stand very close you don’t need the whole visual effects; you want to see the sweat on the forehead of the queen, you want to see the makeup cracking up and when she misses a lip syncing but still stays astonishing. If you sit, pleeease just in the middle otherwise you would miss one of the meaning of the show.

Aside of the 3D, it is all about defying gravity, a touch of „cirquedusoleilesque“ take your breath away without being too much. Finally, something that people aim to forget is that a Madonna is something very religious and it is her real name, so we have also some  churches, but in odorama, and a new interpretation of the tired redemption theme. This is not „Crime and punishment“, this is „Crime and redemption“!

So I was so happy seeing one of most amazing show of my life when all Germany preferred to see a very bad show on television: the half-final of the European soccer cup!

The 2010's: instructions of use

It's so hard to capture the spirit of a decade when it’s not over. Even a few years later, the lack of distance from the facts hinders an objective perception. Five years ago, while I was organizing a 90’s party, my friends arrived with all sorts of unexpected outfits just because they had tried to reproduce their own 90’s (sometimes even with their boring vintage clothing!) and not the specific atmosphere of those years. The 2010’s were such a mystery to me until that sleepless night when I decided to attend the party "Homopatik" at "about: blank".
My friends still answer the phone at 6:15 in the morning and are waiting for me in the garden. I take the first taxi and believe I can be there in fifteen minutes. Horror, Ostkreuz is actually very far from Ostbahnof; my budget of 70 euros is already well underway and I am not yet in the club. I am happy to be sober to face the South American goalie; she let me in and immediately the magic begins.

This are the results of my observation in the coolest place of Berlin, every third Friday of the month.

What to hear in the 10’s:
I could define it as electro-blues with a hint of tribal disco. Forget the worshipping of the DJ, we love only our friends and now the DJ has a secondary role ... but he is professional!

What to drink in the 10’s:
There is only one drink: Vodka-Mate. I have not tried to fight against the current, I knew I was catapulted into the 10's, so I had to bear the consequences, I would drink my first vodka-Mate at "about: blank"! Of course all bottles are returnable but there is some more routine to respect. Half a liter of native American caffeinated drink arrives on the desk and if like me, you look frustrated at the sealed bottle, the eager bartender will tell you: "So, drink a sip!" In Germany, you have to obey from time to time (not always!). I drink two sips and the bartender takes my bottle and fills it with vodka up to the brim. I screw back the cap and mix the cocktail. The breakfast can start!

What to wear in the 10’s:
I knew it, American Apparel had run its course and Weekdays took over. Still some slim jeans but leggings with improbable colors were a must. "But are your pants green? - No, can’t you see it’s yellow! "The key is that the top is "oversized" and that the bottom ... is not! This is the basis of the outfit, accessories are (must be) personal creations. This refers to the sublimation of the curtains of your grandmother (as a scarf, an apron or even a skirt), the recycling of used straws from the club to organize a tiara or the reinterpretation of a fake pearls necklace to be laid carelessly over your shoulder. Next comes the makeup, and please for men, never symmetrical! The eyes are the most important, but the eye area extends up to the ear, with lots of bright colors and glitter. Although most of the people stand in bright light and the rain, it has to be seen in the darkness of the club. If you have already seen video clips of "Empire of the Sun" it is exactly the same thing, but trashier!

What to do in the 10’s:
You are a "Nerd" but do not know about it. You look for your friends in the club with "WhatsApp" and everyone think it's very normal. Everybody search for a cigarette everywhere but nobody buys a pack because it costs too much. You party with your friends and stay awake with all the letters of the alphabet, except C (too 2000’s and it costs too much!). You do not know yet but you belong to a generation who will speak out new message soon.

Good luck kids, in fact 2012 has much in common with 1993 but I won’t tell you the end and yes you can still surprise me!

Three hours later the photographer who enjoys capturing the innocence of young girls on film replies "Sure, I know Richard Kern, I am over thirty!" And then I ask him his opinion on naïve perversion and he tells me he never sleeps with his models!

At that moment I experience a "Writing flash” and I must leave everybody to tell you everything.

The girls wear sunglasses in the rain, the boys finish their beers while waiting for the regional train and a beautiful day of the 10’s years begins. I love my city and finally the rain stops!

No Nostalgia but Gratitude

 On Thursday, November 5, 1992, I arrive in Berlin for the first time since the fall of the wall. It's cold, it's winter in Germany, not surprising. From Tegel airport, the road is not long until the small gay friendly hotel in Kreuzberg.
Heinz's funeral a few weeks earlier in Traben Trarbach, and the one of Christian gone missing the year before in Berlin, was the grim reason for my solo trip.
Just upon arriving in the lobby of my hotel, I was immediately challenged by a new music video on MTV. In Paris, cable was a privilege and MTV was my favorite channel on the big TV which took up all the space in my room. I had to fill out paperwork, sign things… but I was going to miss the extraordinary name of the group welcoming me in Berlin. No, it was written there, all I needed was remembering it; that would be the piece of music associated with my arrival in Berlin: Stereo Mc's - Connected. It was a new sound, a new city and a new me. “Give me a piece of paper and a pencil if you please, I must note the name of this group, maybe I can find the CD”
The memory of the O-Bar in Oranienstraße, five years earlier, was so nice that my first concern, straight after dropping off my luggage in the room, was to return there. A wall that had disfigured the city for so many years had fallen, but all seemed like five years ago. The same kebab shops, the same stores selling leather trousers and the same alternative cafés. It was 4p.m and the bar was not open? They may have even gone bankrupt, but actually not, in the little guide, they said it would open only at 6p.m. What a strange idea! The only bar open in the afternoon that seemed interesting was not very far, but was called "Café Anal". It sounded more like the name of a night bar!

Night was already falling at four o'clock in the afternoon in Berlin but it was even darker inside the café. Cemetery candles were almost the unique light while old dismembered dolls installed across the room were the finishing touch of a cheap gothic decoration.
I was all alone in the cafe with the bartender.
I was in an infernal cave all alone with a little blond angel behind the bar.
Ah, there was no Coca-Cola, and yes I was French and I had just arrived in Berlin and I was surprised that the O-Bar was not open and of course, we could speak French. My German friends back in Paris spoke French with such a slight accent that it was difficult to recognize their origins. My little bartender had a fairly pronounced accent, but spoke very good French and was fascinated by my presence. He had nothing to do but to tell me all the great things I could do in his city. A list of cafes, clubs and activities, not to miss during a stay in the new Berlin, each accompanied by a small map or outline, began quickly to fill several pages. It was already 7p.m and there was still no customers, but my cute blond intended to accompany me to the O-Bar because he had nearly finished his shift. The boy was too small to excite my senses but such an unexpected and pleasant company could not be refused.

It was at that time that I learnt how lucky I was to have arrived on Thursday, the day of the coolest night of the hippest club in Berlin:"The 90 degrees"

Of course, it was forbidden to arrive early, an itinerary composed of several bars on the way was the preliminary of the core business: managing to be able to enter the “90 degrees”. I was delighted to hear that it would have not been a problem for me to get in, but still intrigued by this aspect that reminded me of Paris, in a city that, five years ago, seemed so small to me. Clubs had always fascinated me for how they allowed the materialization of various cultural identity movements; this one materialized a new energy. The music was different; people were never tired and were interested in me. My little guide had gone out of sight for a long time and at 8a.m Friday, November 6, 1992, that’s when I became the new IT BOY Berlin. I realized that only fifteen years later, but I had to move to Berlin straight away.

Today, June 20, 2011, all that is left of the “90 degrees” is the gate. 
Right there where you now see a gaping hole, I was bartending, cloakroom attendant, dealer and DJ but most of it, a whore, a whore who wanted to finally carefreely enjoy, even the minute after the last minute, of his unexpected "rebirth". There is no nostalgia in the contemplation of the ruin of a place so important and whose entrance I’ve even owned the key for a while; there is only gratitude for the extraordinary and privileged time I’ve had the chance to share!

"In 2012, are we able only to see and no more to watch?" or "Nature and perversity"

Before discussing the idea of “Nature and Perversity”, the first purpose of this paper is obviously the perception of the image in 2012 and how Facebook has changed the way we see and therefore to look at things.

In 2009, Europe saw the emergence of a life "permanent online" with the development of the "Smartphones" and Internet flats for mobile phones. Being constantly online and being able to exchange instant information about the most trivial of our existence, Facebook has ceased to be global to become local. English was no longer the language of reference in non-English speaking countries and suddenly people stopped to read on Facebook that what is said in a local environment remains very local. The volume of information became unmanageable for "Facebookers" with over one hundred "Friends". How to read the entire menu tasted the night before at the other end of the world through an acquaintance of past holidays when the subway is crowded and every jolt of the wagon make us lose the thread of the text. The absolutism of the image entered at this time in a new era. Our brains used to the absorption of 24 frames per second can, in record time, assimilate all the messages contained in video clips and other advertisements. The problem is that most of them only act on our subconscious. We go through all this information and what we notice, what we want also to comment, with the most common clichés, we do not know the deep reason. Whitney is dead? “R.I.P”! Robert has a birthday? We need to find the application that sends a picture of a cake directly on his wall! The concepts of friendship and to like have become completely watered down. Exchanging few words in a cafe is enough to create a virtual friendship (Facebook Friend) and reading a comment became liking it (I like) - which is why there is no button "Dislike" because it has nothing to do with our opinion -. This text asked me a lot of time writing, how many of my 1087 "friends" will press the "I like" and how many will read it at least so far? If you got there, you no longer need to read the rest, simply write with letters "I liked it" as a comment, I'm curious about the result. So, reading has become so difficult and so uninteresting that we have only the images left, which we believe so well to understand that the comment is superfluous. No, the image should be expected as the first factor of a sorting activity leading to a higher intellectual one. Marcel Proust wrote with reason that the view is the most common of the five senses because it prevents us from thinking! And if we stopped to see the pictures to start watching them!
The Cartesian conception of human superiority is based on the thought (as opposed to instinct): "Cogito ergo sum". This idea, very French, established the nature as a danger and an obstacle to modern civilization, and this already in the 17th century. How to behave in 2012 when man puts now nature in danger? Does being French change something?
Make no mistake, the subject of this paper is to determine what can be considered pervert by civilized citizens in two areas that seem so disparate: hunting and homosexuality. However, thinking about it, we see an interaction between the two. In primitive societies who hunted to survive (by eating and destroying their predators), homosexuality was often seen as a danger, as an obstacle to the reproduction of the species. In current Western societies where survival depends more on the preservation of wildlife and the environment as reproduction, homosexuality seems much more accepted. If the two are opposites, is it implying that you must be a vegetarian if you are homosexual? If we look carefully we see that the animal itself despite its primitiveness is not free from homosexuality.

Sigmund Freud wrote that the sexual act without intent to procreate defines perversion, which is much larger than homosexuality and actually sounds very fun. Would the idea of hunting without consumption of the spoils define a notion of perversion? Even without knowing the meaning of the great Sigmund, it would be normal to disapprove such an aggressive and gratuitous practice. The settlement of the society related to agriculture is no longer a question, the dilemma between the lenses of Abel and the hunting of Cain went well. If agriculture can be felt as an evolution towards civilization of primitive societies, livestock farming is also definitely. Could our problem with the meat being directly induced by a certain anthropomorphism that we have with animals? We are disturbed by the presence of eyes, a tongue or ears because it reminds us of our own body. This is for once quite primitive! We are able to think on the purpose and context, then our reaction should be influenced by it. Here is the crucial point. Rather than spread on very subjective notion of "perversion", allowing very questionable behaviors overflows, should we not wonder about much more objective data such as the preservation of endangered species necessary to maintain a ecosystem essential to the survival of humanity? The overpopulation of wild kangaroos threatens Australia so their hunting is welcome, but not using them for food is ridiculous. Not using their skin would be also stupid! With the same logic hunting of the lynx or the elephant is completely unthinkable today. In terms of animal farming in order to exploit their skin or fur, what is the threat to the ecosystem? None, but then ethics demand that the rest of the animal is used for other purposes.
If our impulses incline us to react in certain ways, the desire to prove our human existence forces us to control them. Racism is a very primitive impulse present in children. The child learns that the difference of color is not a danger for him and opens to the possible enrichment through the difference. It is the first step towards a better and intelligent society where multiple sexual orientations and culinary diversity complement one another in harmony!

My first lesson of Chinese, I hope not the last!

If China needs 15 years to overtake American economy, I do have 15 years to learn Chinese, I guess it is the minimum.

The first lesson is "Hello". That, I learned already a long time ago in Beijing, but today I learned it is composed from "You" and "Good"; so you greet your Chinese neighbors saying "Are you good?" or more western "How are you?".

This is easy, I should learn how to say "Good bye" in the same lesson but I chose first to learn how to write it. I am lucky, Chinese simplified their traditional alphabet in the 50’s with the Pinyin alphabet!

To write Hello, you do not have to write: 你好 anymore but the much easier: 你好. I don’t see much difference! Fortunately, I am not the only one trying with this very important language so a system is given.

First “you”: Ní

And then “good” : hǎo

I knew it would be too much to learn “Good bye” in the same day but I was starting to wonder after learning “you” if trying “good” wouldn’t be overestimating myself either?

Then I discovered that what you learn to write is different from what is printed and actually the printed is easier

Then “you” should be written

but is printed






I like to say man prevails the machine but there are some exceptions! In the printed I can detail some characters, lines and curves that I can’t do in the written. Of course at the end, if you want to have just a little conversation, the transcription is enough and look very easy, it is just a tone situation!

Les Tons

Le Chinois Mandarin possède quatre tons plus un ton "plat".

Ton	Marque	Description
1er	dā	Haut et constant
2nd	dá	Commence par un ton médium et monte vers le ton haut
3ème	dǎ	Commence par un ton bas, descend vers les graves puis remonte vers le ton haut
4ème	dà	Commence par un ton haut et descend sèchement vers les graves
Neutral	da	Plat et sans expression

Variations de Tons

Un 3ème ton suivi immédiatement d'un autre 3ème ton se prononce comme un 2ème ton.

Nǐ hǎo = Ní hǎo

Is it really necessary to write if you can’t do it properly? The speaking is different; in international conversation the meaning is sometimes not as important as the will to show your respect for the culture of the interlocutor. So you say some unexpected politeness in the language of the other and then you are allowed to switch to English.

It was so hard to learn today how to write 你好 but so easy to learn to say “Hěn gāoxìng rènshi nǐ” which means “Please to meet you” or the even nicer “Ravi de faire votre connaissance”; and then I recognize the same nǐ as in Hello.

I knew it, it is all about you!

Did my dick got smaller?

Isn't it the scariest idea ever, who could occur to a man?

I am deeply convinced that the structure of our society is only based on domination. Christianity made us believe that the one being slapped could be stronger offering the second chick, but nowadays, in the great age of "über-capitalism", the stronger one is the one who slaps! Everything is about power and its most primitive expression is the penetration. This is a hard time for the ladies!
Yes, I deeply believe that equality between the genders is a sign of civilisation and countries where women are treated as inferior, are not socially developed as the one who do.
A surrendering city, who let the enemy penetrate in its wall, accepts domination; should someone being physically penetrated automatically socially dominated? No! You can control a part of my body but I control your brain and the way I like to be apparently dominated, because it gives me pleasure and at the end I decide when it starts and when it finishes. Unfortunately, it is not that simple in most of the world and even where it should be, the absolutism of porn culture from the tenderest ages makes people believe that the bigger is your dick and the more confident you should be!

And here I am, in the sauna of my exclusive gym, sweating in front of this young naked hunk exposing a huge “confidence”! He is playing being unreachable and ignoring my presence because he wants to be admired and seduced. This used to be a challenge to me, but I got older! I felt like I would admit my inferiority if I would get into that game! “Do you think you are looking better now than I was looking at your age? Will you look in my age as good as I do now? And if you go on spending so much time on your appearance, will you have any chance to express your own individuality instead of conforming yourself permanently to an average perception of beauty? I fold myself with my towel, hiding some unnecessary kilos and left the Adonis alone.
How old did I become to be so obsessed with age, appearance and youth!
No, I just recognized very late the capital that I had, that I did not take advantage of! I never tried to look good because I was looking good and getting the attention of people I liked. I realise now, when instead of me, shallow young persons get the attention of people I like, that my looks helped me in the past sometimes more than I admitted: “My beautiful thoughts were not as exciting as my beautiful thighs”
Today, in our global world, the cult of a very formatted beauty gives me the impression we went directly from the primitive Stone Age to the Plastic Age (of surgery!). Accepting it would be denying my first ideals of civilised society!
If I lost confidence in winning the battle of the appearance, does it really mean my dick got smaller? I don’t think so, I only justify myself by more intellectual means which do not vanish as fast as the looks!

Anyway, I still will trim my pubic hair a little better next time, it makes me looking bigger!

Das "Stabile" und das "Lustige", ein Versuch um die deutsche Kultur besser verstehen zu können vom April 2000! by Philippe Claude

Da "Kultur" schwer wahrnehmbar ist, ist sie auch schwer zu definieren. Bestimmte Einstellungen, intelektuelle oder künstlerische Schritte sind charakteristisch für bestimmte ethnische oder soziale Gruppen und somit kulturell definierend. Wenn eine kulturelle Gruppe (durch ihre Bedeutung oder Ghettoisierung) nicht mehr von einer anderen abhängig ist und sich selbst genügt, werden ihre Eigenheiten schließlich nicht mehr von der Gruppe wahrgenommen, da sie zur Norm geworden sind. So sind manche Frauen beleidigt, wenn man ihnen nicht die Tür öffnet, während andere sich weigern würden irgend eine Schwelle vor ihrem Mann zu übertreten. Die dominierende Kultur einer Welt, egal welcher Größenordnung (sei es eine Straße, eine Wohnung, eine Kirche oder auch ein Land, mehr noch eine halbe Erdkugel) definiert die gesellschaftlich angemessene Haltung, die trotz ihrer Besonderheit oft jedem einzelnen genauso kategorisch erscheint, wie Mord oder Inzest. Im Ausland zu leben ist eine besonders bereichernde Erfahrung: man lernt eine andere Kultur kennen und hat gleichzeitig genug Abstand, um die eigene mehr zu schätzen. Ich persönlich bin mir meiner eigenen Kultur durch das Leben in Deutschland bewußt geworden, während ich die deutsche Kultur in mannigfaltigsten, unerwarteten Situationen entdeckte. Die "Bar Jeder Vernunft" ist eher ein Tempel der Berliner Kultur, aber nichtsdestotrotz habe ich dort meine Theorie der nationalen Kultur entwickelt. Hat die Show begonnen, besteht meine Arbeit darin, die Ungestörtheit der Zuschauer und Künstler zu gewährleisten, daß heißt, mich um Außenstehende zu kümmern, die sich informieren oder einfach nur schnorren wollen. So fand sich eines abends, eine halbe Stunde vor dem Ende der Vorstellung ein konservativer Herr in den sechzigern ein, er trug einen marineblauen Kaschmirmantel. Seine Aktentasche legte die Vermutung nahe, daß er um 22:30 Uhr direkt von der Arbeit kam. Nach einer kurzen Unterredung, wußte ich daß er seine Frau abholen, und nach hause begleiten wollte und daß er geduldig im Vorzelt, das der "Bar Jeder Vernunft" als Foyer dient, warten würde. Der Eingang des Hauptzelts, ein leuchtend roter Moltonvorhang - der ein Bereich markiert, der nur mit einer Eintrittskarte betreten werden kann - wird von zwei robusten Stühlen undefinierbaren Stils flankiert, deren Leopardenpolster mich vage an Kolonialmöbel erinnern. Für meinen späten Besucher jedoch stellten sie etwas völlig anderes dar! Der, zu Unrecht, zwielichtige Ruf, den das Haus bei schlecht Informierten genießt, hat es oft auf eine Stufe mit irgendwelchen geschmacklosen Etablissements gestellt.
Diese Stühle erinnerten den alten Herrn keinesfalls an Kolonialzeiten, sondern bestimmt an etwas Vulgäres, das eigentlich in ein Bordell gehört. Die Müdigkeit nach einem so langen Arbeitstag führte ihn dazu, mich zu fragen, ob er in einem dieser Stühle Platz nehmen dürfe, um diesen Moment der Ruhe genießen zu können. Mir schien die Frage eher eine Geste der Höflichkeit und ich antwortete: "Bitteschön mein Herr!" Nachdem er sich gesetzt hatte, hellte sich das erschöpfte, abgespannte Gesicht plötzlich auf: er hatte es gewagt! Seine graue, trübe Alltagswelt war durch die Berührung mit der Phantasie durcheinandergebracht worden. Er befand sich mitten im Bühnenbild, auf dem Platz eines Schauspielers, er war ein Künstler!
Soviel Kühnheit durfte nicht ungestraft bleiben, dem Glück folgte die Panik. Seine beiden Hände, von Altersflecken bedeckt - in gewisser Weise passend zu den Bezügen - krallten sich verzweifelt an die Stuhlbeine, sein Gesicht verzerrte sich zu einer verschreckten Grimasse und mit zitternder Stimme fragte er mich: "Ist das stabil?" Ich verstand nicht sofort was er mir sagen wollte, aber ich fürchtete ihm ginge es nicht gut und wollte schon Hilfe besorgen. Ich sagte: "Wie bitte?" Verzweifelt wiederholte er: "Der Stuhl! Ist er stabil?" Aber sicher mein Herr, das ist zum Sitzen gedacht!" Etwas erleichert aber nicht ganz zuversichtlich, der anfängliche Moment des Reizes schien weg! Gedanken wie etwa "Und wenn mich ein Bekannter hier sieht?" oder "Wie stehe ich da, wenn der Stuhl am Ende doch nicht hält?" mußten ihm durch den Kopf gegangen sein; die verlorene Unbekümmertheit sollte sich nicht wieder einstellen, die kurze Atempause vom Alltagsstress war verdorben! Das unerklärliche Benehmen meines Gegenübers machte mich stutzig. Das Ganze hatte kaum mehr als eine Minute gedauert und ich versuchte immer noch zu verstehen, was passiert war, als mir plötzlich ein Licht aufging: der Stuhl war lustig, also konnte er unmöglich stabil sein! Dieser Mann schien mir jetzt wie eine Karikatur des germanischen Geistes. Die Dinge müssen stabil sein, sie müssen so funktionieren wie sie gedacht sind und zwar so präzise und lange wie möglich. Dieses stabile Universum, in dem Überraschungen nicht willkommen sind, streift seltsammerweise ein lustiges Universum, in dem man während seiner Freizeit Abenteuer erlebt und wo alles nicht länger als ein Lachen dauert. Erheitern gilt als Entschuldigung für mangelnde Stabilität. Weder stabil, noch amüsant sein, heißt auf einen Platz im deutschen Kulturraum verzichten. Wenn das "Stabile" eher dem Bereich Arbeit zuzuordnen ist und das das "Lustige" der Freizeit, so gibt es doch zahllose Wechselbeziehungen zwischen beiden, wie der Stuhl beweist, es gibt erheiternde Dinge die nicht weniger stabil sind. Zum Beispiel ich: auch wenn ich einen niedlichen Akzent habe und mein Verhalten manchmal unerwartet scheint - was mich als "lustig" kategorisiert-, schätze ich die Stabilität , ja ich brauche sie sogar. Seit 15 Jahren ziehe ich mich gleich an, benütze Parfum einer Marke und bin einem Elektonikhersteller treu geblieben. Ganz zu schweigen von meinen sozialen Gewohnheiten, es sind die selben!

Philippe Claude übersätzt von Alexzandra Ahlborn (April 2000)