I’m a little bleary eyed this morning, as I awoke regularly through the night to the most amazing orgasms. Unfortunately they weren’t mine. They belonged to the female (soprano?) living in the apartment above me. Her regular and loud expressions of ecstasy were quite stirring. (I have reason to believe that she had company, but I can’t be altogether sure).
Not so soprano, in fact much more on the lower register, sits the rumble and roar of hundreds of motorbikes, jamming up Rue de Rivoli on Saturday afternoon. The parade was lead by a substantial number of motorcycle police and a one tonne van with two tonnes of speakers on its roof. From the speakers came loud and very convincing protests in French, interspersed with the Bee Gees, Stayin Alive and Tom Jones, Sex Bomb. The endless stream of bikers waved at the gathering crowd as they revved and swerved and beeped their motorbikes in unison. I took in the carbon monoxide and surreal vibe and still have no clue as to what the protest was about – perhaps Gay Rights For Hells Angels?
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