This is a wonderfully ambiguous and complex photograph by Jean Gaumy. It is untitled, so far as I know. It has that certain je ne sais quoi. No?
I ask you, is it a symbolic representation of me and Mrs. Bissage, only le vieux and le swarthy?
* strokes chin *
I post it, here, in large part, merely because I feel like I need to post something. You see, my conscience has been bothering me.
Anyway, please don't hold me to the title of this blog post. I got it from babelfish or something or other. You see, except for the words "bon-bon," "poodle-bush," and "Audrey-Hepburn," I don't speak a single, stinking word of French.
No! Wait! Stop! Hold on there, Baba Looey! Maybe I do know something more about France. After all, I really liked "The 400 Blows," "A Man and a Woman," and I would really, really, really like to experience wild, uninhibited, sweaty carnal relations with Audrey Tautou and Eva Green (together, thankyouverymuch).
Oh yeah, and then there is this: My first movie memory is "Grand Prix" (1966). Also, I think I might have once buttered up Maria Schneider -- under the influence of unnatural fungus, mind you.
Oh, and there is one more thing I know about France. More than a few of my ex-girlfriends have said that it tickles, so there's that.