The newlyweds are in the block – Liberation

Every Thursday, passage in the kitchen and awakening of the taste buds. Today, a pork terrine with Sichuan pepper after having passed the ring on your finger.

Like every night, he wakes up at 3 am. In the past, when he lived alone, he turned on the bedside lamp and smoked a pair of cigarettes in the bed before trying to go back to sleep. NOW “that he is in the household”, as they said in the days of his old people, he gently pushes back the duvet in which it is wrapped and gets up stealthily. Precaution, moreover, useless because she sleeps as heavily as a power hammer. He might just hit an anvil that she wouldn’t wake up. What frustrates him is that he can’t contemplate her in his sleep, in this tranquility that stirs his guts so much he finds her beautiful. So he goes to the kitchen and heats up a coffee stock in the microwave. He sits down at the table, lights a Camel and sips his barrack juice. Afterwards, he will watch a series or take a book while waiting for 6:30 a.m. and the time to go buy fresh bread. He will spread it with salted butter on a half-string cut lengthwise. At 7 o’clock, she will get up and come, eyes drowned in sleep, to stick a kiss on his lips before going to take a shower. It will be the end of his loneliness.

Nighties and nighties

When others complain of insomnia, he loves his waking nocturnal solitude. One day the doctor told him it was a sign of depression and he sent him to hell, flushing the toilet on his prescription. When the city sleeps and you’re awake as if by broad daylight, it’s a private