After a good meal of pasta and watching the movie In the loop that makes a complete mockery of our shameful governments, Frank had returned home. On the train, he thought about Svetlana again. He hesitated to call her but he was curious as to whether she had given him her real number. He started to compose a text message since it is easier to write than to make a call without knowing in advance what they could talk about together. At the last moment he changed his mind. He was afraid that a message asking about her was too hasty and that after reading it the young woman would only want to distance herself from this man who was still a stranger and who oddly wondered about how her day went.
The next morning, at seven, the vibration of Franks phone woke him up. He hated when his rest was cut short like that. The solution would have simply been to turn off the phone but it also served as his alarm clock. Normally, he woke up at around nine oclock. He did not have anything in particular to do. He usually used the time to watch movies, read books, and drink beers with his friends while sharing updates on their respective lives. Sometimes he stayed at home and did research online while thinking about possible photo essays he could create. Occasionally, he looked at the job offers. This search made him quickly sink into a state close to depression. The same ads came back tirelessly. And yet, when he wrote to the companies, they didnt find it necessary to contact him back. Apart from taking pictures of Santa Claus in the winter and being the photographer at a school or weddings, there was nothing in his field. Frank had already done these types of jobs and found them to be boring and unstimulating They did not require a single artistic fibre in his body. Nothing really completely suited him. At least not over long periods of time.
Whenever he left on a reporting assignment, filth and misery inspired him And Paris was filled with them! Taking postcard snaps did not interest him. To each his own creative universe.
Frank rubbed his eyes. On the phone screen was a text message from Svetlana. This surprise had made him jump off the bed. In the message, Svetlana mentioned that she would be free on the coming Sunday. She would appreciate having a guide to show her around a nice neighbourhood in Paris. She had ended her message with an innocent smiley face emoji. Surprised to have received the text, a profound joy overpowered Frank. He no longer had to torture himself in trying to decide whether or not he should contact her, she had handled it first. That approach meant a lot for him. This woman seemed sincere and really wanted to see him again, walk around with him and get to know him. Maybe she wanted something else too? Frank probably went too far there. This delight would keep him in a good mood for the three days that separated him from this meeting. The psychological torment of the memory of his ex-love was already leaving him. Frank felt ready for a new love story. He responded favourably to her instantly. He also took the opportunity to give her his email address. Svetlana had reacted by giving him hers, again followed by a smiley identical to that of the previous message. This simple icon brought out so much kindness through such a brief exchange that he was sure he had met a wonderful girl.
That evening, Frank waited patiently in front of his computer screen. He had added Svetlana as a contact on Skype. Suddenly, the stranger who he had been waiting for so excitedly connected. She told him about her job as well as her troubles, as if Frank had become an intimate friend that she had been talking to for years now.
She explained to him that at her workplace, the atmosphere was not the happiest. The manager regularly lashed out at the workers that she thought were incapable. Frequently, there were thefts. Nobody noticed anything, not even the watchman. Immediately, hysterical and paranoid, she would accuse each of her workers in turn, even imagining an internal conspiracy against her.
Most of her colleagues were from abroad. Dreaming of discovering France, people travelled to the country during the summer season when a greater workforce was usually needed. Other than Svetlana from Russia, there was a Moldavian, two Ukrainians, one Chinese and a Brazilian. Two French women completed the team. Their boss was also a French woman, with Korean roots from her parents. As for the woman who was managing the shop at the time, she was French. This business was a real melting pot. Some of the saleswomen could not speak a word of French. They compensated for this shortcoming by perfectly mastering English, which became necessary when talking with customers who were often tourists and did not understand French. Svetlana was able to practice the languages she had learned. She found that to be the only advantage of that job.
They had decided to walk around the area of Montmartre. Svetlana had not yet been able to visit Paris. Now that she had more time, she wanted to catch up. She had only seen the Eiffel Tower, and just from the outside. When Svetlana saw the metal mass, she thought, What? This is the famous Eiffel Tower? Its really not that extraordinary!
Her Ukrainian friend who accompanied her had had a total lack of reaction. Known around the world as the symbol of France and its liberties, this monument had a pitiful effect on these two women, quite far from the initial excitement they first felt on seeing different pictures of it before they came. All the magic of a shot is hidden in the correct balancing of the shutter that defines the exposure time and the opening of the diaphragm that lets the light through. The choice of focal length should offer a good angle of view and a judicious frame that can give life to any fantasy.
Svetlanas lack of time, which limited the number of places she was able to visit since her arrival was due to an end of year assignment that she had not yet completed and had to send to her teacher as soon as possible. To connect her passionsart and FrenchSvetlana wanted to translate into Russian and subtitle several songs from the movie The Umbrellas of Cherbourg. It was her favourite French film. Despite being a little later than the deadline, Svetlana had sent in her work online, once she was done. Then she got the highest mark. How exciting! She could now be sure that she was moving on to her fifth and final year, with congratulations from the teacher as an added bonus. As a reward, she allowed herself to enjoy her free time and relax as much as she wanted after all her hard work.
During the three days of waiting, Frank had received an e-mail from one of his friends, Elijah, who he had studied the same post-baccalaureate curriculum with and who, for some obscure reason, then turned to the cinema. A few years later, Frank joined him. Elijah justified this choice with a quote from Jean-Luc Godard, from the movie The Little Soldier, Photography is truth. The cinema is truth twenty-four times per second! The truth twenty-four times per second this idea provokes so much thought that no words can describe the lasting impression.
Elijah had become quite a gifted filmmaker in his genre, a genre that alternated between genius and madness, and which lets a powerful uppercut slip in this snobbish industry that hides a big family of false-asses, in which many people hold hatred and jealousy for each other, or who would play a dirty trick on you for no good reason.
Elijah was staying in Lebanon for two months. He was thinking about his second feature film. Just like the previous project, this production would come to fruition thanks to some generous sponsors who knew one of Elijahs close friends and who were not asking for anything in return. The cost of producing the film would amount to less than five thousand euros, and being surrounded by a few passionate and precious friends who believed in his work. In his email, Elijah informed Frank that his script would be finalized soon. His Lebanese friends were doing well, his family too. He breathed freedom, far from Parisian oppression, far from his dilapidated palace of fifteen square meters, a living space representing the size of one of his bathrooms in Lebanon and in his own words, The size of my crappers!
Elijah was staying in Lebanon for two months. He was thinking about his second feature film. Just like the previous project, this production would come to fruition thanks to some generous sponsors who knew one of Elijahs close friends and who were not asking for anything in return. The cost of producing the film would amount to less than five thousand euros, and being surrounded by a few passionate and precious friends who believed in his work. In his email, Elijah informed Frank that his script would be finalized soon. His Lebanese friends were doing well, his family too. He breathed freedom, far from Parisian oppression, far from his dilapidated palace of fifteen square meters, a living space representing the size of one of his bathrooms in Lebanon and in his own words, The size of my crappers!
Paris the artificial heart of France. City of sacrifices and sufferings in hopes of one day succeeding.
Frank had replied to the message. He updated him on the details of the past few days, detailing how he had met the eyes of a pretty Russian girl who would perhaps make him forget about the one who had made him feel so bad the previous weeks: his ex-girlfriend, who was also a foreigner. He only considered this person as an ephemeral lover when she came to relax and enjoy herself during a usual Parisian trip that she did once or twice a year. Frank promised to keep him informed if anything happened with this young woman and told him to enjoy his vacation in the sun before returning to looking himself up in a discoloured Paris.
2.
Svetlana and Frank had agreed to meet up at the Abbesses metro station. He planned to show her Montmartre as well as the Basilica of the Sacred Heart of Paris. The weather was not very accommodating; huge grey clouds threatened to pour down. A few beams of sunlight poked their way through the thick cloudy layer here and there, as best as they could. What sad weather for a first date!
Frank had been waiting for ten minutes now. He was not early. No, Svetlana was late. He had already tried calling her but he had gotten her voicemail.
In front of the stations exit, a married couple had just appeared out of nowhere. Followed by a film crew, these people had invaded the tiny place. Seeing all the equipment, Frank thought for a moment that it was a production for a show. There was a cameraman with a Steadicam around his waist. The equipment seemed heavier than the camera itself which was a small digital camcorder. Another person was pointing a portable light. An assistant guided the cameraman who only relied on the LCD screen. A fourth guy prevented an entire assembly of people from advancing too farthe presence certainly of both families and friends. Frank had moved away from them so as not to be seen. The lovers took acrobatic poses, while obstructing access to the metro. Frank found the whole charade ridiculous. This is the kind of craziness that having too much money causes.
People had finally been able to get out of the underground station, once they were finally allowed to pass. Frank still could not find Svetlana, in this wave of people. He continued to follow the commotion from the couple. Then he turned to watch children screaming around a carousel. Nearby, a clown had started juggling. Tourists circled around him. On the right, a man added a beat by turning the handle of a music box. What an anachronistic atmosphere! The charm worked. The magic of Montmartre was exposed to the eyes of all, despite a gloomy weather.
When Frank had looked again in front of the metro station, a woman started to run in his direction. Frank had not immediately recognized her but it was Svetlana. She had let down her slightly wavy hair that day.
Svetlana had a technique to easily curl her hair. She took a shower, then she made braids that she then undid one by one. This process required a lot of time, but her hair remained styled for about three full days. Just the day before, Svetlana had washed her long mane, so that Frank could see her defined curls. Her hair was ash-blond at the roots and bright at the ends. Seeing it at a glance, the colour seemed chestnut brown, quite light. Frank seemed to like the length of her hair, that reached a little lower than her shoulders, and its distinctive natural colour.
In this unexpected behaviour, Frank had noticed her sweetness and felt an immediate attachment to her. Did he fall victim to what is typically called love at first sight? Hard to say. In any case, he was hypnotized, seduced and bewitched by her presence. This real spontaneity combined with her innate and undeniable charm made him weak. One without the other would have produced a different effect.
He had already met very beautiful women who were too arrogant or not very friendly, or even those who were so eager that it overshadowed all their attractive traits. Svetlanas appearance was full of joy, warmth, and was striving to offer a grace that separated her from the multitude.
They had exchanged a kiss on each cheek, both embarrassed and delighted to see each other. She apologized for being late. Frank did not need her to. She was easily forgiven. Her simple radiating aura was enough to redraw a smile on the face of any man in a state of depression. To him, Svetlana a pretty star, which, like an aurora, flooded the sky and the Earth with a special, magical, unique and grandiose atmosphere. She was a hymn paying homage to life.
Frank thought for a while about the best route to climb to the Sacred Heart. They had finally decided to take the first street in front of them, knowing that they had to venture on the sloping roads ahead. Frank, however, had come here on many occasions, without ever taking the same path. There were quite a few access roads. He was very fond of this neighbourhood. He found it perfect for a romantic walk, especially if the sun honoured the day with its presence. Despite not having the best weather, the pair really wanted to get to know each other. They talked about a little bit of everything and nothing, as often happens when two people arrange to meet up and hit it off during a first outing. They both asked questions to get to know each other better, to see if each one reacts correctly, and to see if their conversation could easily flow from one topic to another. Svetlana had told him many random little details. Amongst other things, she did not know how to listen to her voicemail. The instruction manual that came with the SIM card did not have much useful information. Since they were connected to the same operator, Svetlana had given him her phone to show her how to do it. The menus were displayed in Russian! Frank had not been able to navigate through her phone. She had an old coloured Nokia that had clearly been through a lot. Once the summer was over and she had a little money put aside, she was hoping to buy a smartphone. She would return to the technological race and especially to that of consumption Apart from a caveman, who could resist? This evolutionary process is part of everyday life. Nobody is forced to acquire the latest version of an object, sometimes for a simple change of design and a fake new function presented as revolutionary; revolutionary only for your wallet. Frank took out his Samsung, a very old model, too. After searching through the menu, he told her the right combination of digits that would give her access to her voicemail.
Listening to her voice messages, Svetlana had burst out laughing. There were only three people who had her French number because she knew very few people in Paris and her friends mostly contacted her on the Internet. The first to get her number was her Ukrainian colleague, the second was a Russian friend who came to France to work in a restaurant, on the west coast, by the sea. Svetlana would have hated doing that kind of job. She preferred hers, although in her eyes it did not really suit her. The culprit who had left her two messages was none other than Frank who wondered why she was laughing so much. He had simply told her that he was at the place and that he hoped she was doing well. Frank stared at her with a soft look. Svetlanas cheerful and spontaneous disposition pleased him immensely.