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? It’s 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.
Svetlana’s 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 passions—art and French—Svetlana 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 Elijah’s 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 station’s 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 far—the 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