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November 2006: Valentine Vermeil

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THE HOTEL ROOM

It was the crumpled sheets of a hotel room, quite standard. It could have been the minibar or the TV. The starched sheets, a little rough when you get into them, would get crumpled during the night. It had been quite an ordinary evening, except for a little more alcohol than usual, to celebrate the occasion. After an ice cream and a walk near the Pantheon, we’d gone back to our room, to our perfectly made little beds with their tight sheets. In the morning, they had spoken; they had come undone and tangled.

Hôtel du Panthéon
November 2006

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