les simpson

Yesterday evening I went to Martina's apartment. She lives in France on the other side of Geneve, in what could very well be a "working class" neighborhood if such things could exist in Geneve. The place has an air of legitimacy previously unseen here. Her neighbor is a pencil factory. We cooked up flat noodles with butter, and watched track and field and then the Simpsons, excuse me, Les Simpson, on television. Watching the Simpsons dubbed into French is a strangely baffling experience. She gave me a copy of The First Man (Camus) and then I drove home.