Post by Jacky on Aug 29, 2009 10:15:22 GMT
(I promised you a big post, huh? ...Tadaa! )
Roux ventured downtown that morning. But the further he got, the more restless his soul became. He had told Vianne he would give it a try. They needed the anonymity of the big city. But Roux hated Paris with every step he took. At the entrance of the Montmartre cemetery he walked past, ragged homeless people were asking for money or food. He gave them the last change he had. The rest of Paris just walked by, not even looking in their direction. Roux found it hard to believe that other people could be like air to them. Later, in the subway that took him to the centre, he observed the people. Women and men In suits with briefcases, looking like they were in too much of a hurry to even take a single look from their agendas. Working men in heavy boots like his own, staring into the world with anger in their eyes. Mothers with children who slapped the kids wrists whenever they dared to make a sound. Nobody cares about who was around them here. It was the perfect display of urban solitude. Paris swallowed up people, people like Vianne, Anouk and him.. In his mind, he knew that hiding here was the right thing. But he couldn’t feel at ease with it, no matter how he tried. The city was not the river. Never would be...
--
Nonetheless, in the afternoon of that day, Roux got a lucky break. He was walking a bridge over the Seine, his gaze mostly on the boats that rested in the water, when he noticed a guy struggling with his boat’s engine. Roux paused and leaned on the railing off the bridge. The guy below kicked the engine and cursed colorfully. Roux smirked. “Need help?” He called down the river.
The guy looked up in surprise at the stranger, but gave the engine another kick and nodded. “Engine won’t start. It worked perfectly yesterday.”
Roux crossed the bridge and made it down to the riverbanks, where he stepped onto the boat easily. “You probably got a bad fuel mix, or no spark.” He said, cos the man looked clueless.
It took the two of them almost a full hour to solve the problem. But before the end of the afternoon, the engine roared to life again. The boat owner gave Roux a friendly slap on the shoulder, “Thanks, mate, you’re a godsend miracle.”
“You’re welcome,” Roux just said. “You should take this thing to a boat repair shop though, to get the water out of the tank.”
The guy looked down the river and nodded. “..Hey, ya think you could come? I wouldn’t know what to tell ‘em there, I still only understand half of what we did here.” He looked at Roux. “I’ll pay you for the inconvenience.”
“Yeah, I’ll come.” Roux agreed. He still didn’t find a job, but it was 5 pm and it didn’t look like he’d manage anyway today. So whatever money he could make was welcome.
When they got to the boat repair shop that was at the riverbanks of the Seine, Roux spoke on behalf of the boat owner since he really didn’t know much about how the engine worked (or didn’t). Roux found himself discussing the problem with the technicians there. He explained the malfunction easily. “And yknow, it’s your job, but I think easiest would be to drain the tank completely and get started anew.” He finished.
The technician he had spoken with looked at the boat which bobbed up and down on the water, and nodded. “Jeez. This is gonna be a quick fix if you’re right, buddy.” He told Roux. “Is it your boat?”
“No, I just helped out.” Roux said. “I’m actually looking for a job.”
The technician took of his cap and scratched his ear. “Yknow, we’re looking for people. If you come back after six you could fill in an application form. Or, you could stay here until six and help us out fixing boats. If you show you’re knowledgeable we can cut the crap and hire you immediately.”
So, that’s how it came to be that when Roux eventually returned to Montmartre, it was close to seven in the evening.
Roux ventured downtown that morning. But the further he got, the more restless his soul became. He had told Vianne he would give it a try. They needed the anonymity of the big city. But Roux hated Paris with every step he took. At the entrance of the Montmartre cemetery he walked past, ragged homeless people were asking for money or food. He gave them the last change he had. The rest of Paris just walked by, not even looking in their direction. Roux found it hard to believe that other people could be like air to them. Later, in the subway that took him to the centre, he observed the people. Women and men In suits with briefcases, looking like they were in too much of a hurry to even take a single look from their agendas. Working men in heavy boots like his own, staring into the world with anger in their eyes. Mothers with children who slapped the kids wrists whenever they dared to make a sound. Nobody cares about who was around them here. It was the perfect display of urban solitude. Paris swallowed up people, people like Vianne, Anouk and him.. In his mind, he knew that hiding here was the right thing. But he couldn’t feel at ease with it, no matter how he tried. The city was not the river. Never would be...
--
Nonetheless, in the afternoon of that day, Roux got a lucky break. He was walking a bridge over the Seine, his gaze mostly on the boats that rested in the water, when he noticed a guy struggling with his boat’s engine. Roux paused and leaned on the railing off the bridge. The guy below kicked the engine and cursed colorfully. Roux smirked. “Need help?” He called down the river.
The guy looked up in surprise at the stranger, but gave the engine another kick and nodded. “Engine won’t start. It worked perfectly yesterday.”
Roux crossed the bridge and made it down to the riverbanks, where he stepped onto the boat easily. “You probably got a bad fuel mix, or no spark.” He said, cos the man looked clueless.
It took the two of them almost a full hour to solve the problem. But before the end of the afternoon, the engine roared to life again. The boat owner gave Roux a friendly slap on the shoulder, “Thanks, mate, you’re a godsend miracle.”
“You’re welcome,” Roux just said. “You should take this thing to a boat repair shop though, to get the water out of the tank.”
The guy looked down the river and nodded. “..Hey, ya think you could come? I wouldn’t know what to tell ‘em there, I still only understand half of what we did here.” He looked at Roux. “I’ll pay you for the inconvenience.”
“Yeah, I’ll come.” Roux agreed. He still didn’t find a job, but it was 5 pm and it didn’t look like he’d manage anyway today. So whatever money he could make was welcome.
When they got to the boat repair shop that was at the riverbanks of the Seine, Roux spoke on behalf of the boat owner since he really didn’t know much about how the engine worked (or didn’t). Roux found himself discussing the problem with the technicians there. He explained the malfunction easily. “And yknow, it’s your job, but I think easiest would be to drain the tank completely and get started anew.” He finished.
The technician he had spoken with looked at the boat which bobbed up and down on the water, and nodded. “Jeez. This is gonna be a quick fix if you’re right, buddy.” He told Roux. “Is it your boat?”
“No, I just helped out.” Roux said. “I’m actually looking for a job.”
The technician took of his cap and scratched his ear. “Yknow, we’re looking for people. If you come back after six you could fill in an application form. Or, you could stay here until six and help us out fixing boats. If you show you’re knowledgeable we can cut the crap and hire you immediately.”
So, that’s how it came to be that when Roux eventually returned to Montmartre, it was close to seven in the evening.