Le sens de la vie et ses frères
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On June 25, 2005, tired of waiting for his pants to untuck, Éric Veillé decided to leave in search of the meaning of life. Equipped with a sketchbook and a pair of glasses, he leads his quest between Pornic and Le Pouliguen. Sneaking in between the bulimics in anoraks and the usual Nadine, he collects whispers, grumblings and grumblings in small bags.
Before his eyes, a gently moronic humanity takes advantage of the chief’s absence to whistle in the office, nibbles on small appetizers while chatting and waits for death so that it can say: “Ah, there she is”. Men sometimes look like Gérard Jugnot. They often wear a moustache instead of a name and watch their fellows chew food.
It’s not exciting but it’s a change. Boredom creeps into the folds of the skin and to distract oneself from a daily life with the taste of industrial Frankfurt, one evokes the bad moments or the best ones, which are moreover the same. We talk, we talk and one day it stops. One realizes, then, that for the meaning of life, it was necessary to take the exit of before.
Anyway, because of the traffic jams, we wouldn’t be back in time for dinner.
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