“. . . If [you] want to publish the lie perceived behind the interview, [you have] to write fiction.”

Friday 23 March 1990

 

This morning in front of the Felix Potin grocery store, rue du Cherche-Midi, Mme D., my next-door neighbor, came along dragging her shopping cart, full of items bought en fonction de her chronic constipation. She said, “The concierge is catching it from the building manager! She’s spent more than seven hundred thousand francs on cleaning products.”