Hi! Do you remember blogs? Well, this used to be one. Now it just serves as an archive for my multiple Twitter accounts.
In my old notes of blog ideas, there was the feeling I’d had, seeing a couple in the subway, boy sitting on the jump seat with girl on his knees. And I was thinking that I wasn’t about to see the same scene with two boys. Because we may not get stoned anymore—not in most places—but we still can’t allow ourselves to do that, unless we want to be thrown out of the train. Of course, you can be optimistic, think that society is evolving faster and faster (well, right, and then look at who’s in charge in France or in the USA right now…) and that, even if it’s not possible yet, it will be soon. But I prefer realism. Well, it’s not a choice, it’s my nature, I’ve been drawn that way. All that was left was the San Francisco subway (which probably doesn’t exist, since there’s already a tram—and with the hills and all it would be even harder to access, in some parts of the city, than here in Abbesses (that’s a reference to an old blog that probably won’t ever be translated, so just forget it)). And yet, even in San Francisco, there must be homophobes.
And then I’ve been riding the subway. Several times, including yesterday. At night, being late as I often am, because I have a hard time being realistic about how long it’s gonna take me to get to Paris, and I can’t admit the thought of spending one and a half hour in the train. So I see two men, in their forties, come into the train. Wow, unbelievable. I suck at telling stories. And they call me a blogger. So the train is far from packed, but not empty, and after a while I realize that they’ve got their hands on each other’s thighs. In the most natural way. One is lost within his thoughts, the other is reading a book, and they’re holding each other’s thighs just like any couple would do (well, it’s more common with cute young couples than retirement home escapees, but you get the idea). And I’m amazed. And it’s sad that I should be amazed, but it’s the way things are. So it’s a quiet night, a quiet subway line, there are no would-be rappers in sight, but still. They don’t even pause to consider, at each station, whether they should let go of each other, just in case. I guess they don’t live in the same world as I do. I guess they’re lucky.
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