I'm sleepless on a Parisian rooftop.
German accent, intellectual talk, sounds Freudian: masturbation, underwear, fucking, drinks, girls.
American trying to speak French, trying to buy his image through his words.
Lebanese friend; I'm saying sorry for being distant, Lebanese girl, name and face in common, makes me ill at ease.
"It's okay, I just go with the flow, you know me, I don't complicate things"
But going back will be hard.
German girl, "If a Turkish guy from a football team hit on you, you'd be like yeah..."
"He's gay, like openly"
"No, he's married"
Oh my, I hear my Mexican friend downstairs and people singing to Cindy Lauper.
I should go downstairs, flash my underwear to below the ladder...
Mexican guy arrives.
How do these parties work?
I have to go, don't want to be married to my phone.