The girl asked curiously. Gawain followed her line of sight and turned over the cover of the book:
"Idiot" comes from the work of the legendary writer Fyodor Mikhailovich Dostoevsky.
Gawain smiled at the girl, opened his eyes and told lies.
"No, it's actually 'Harry Potter'. This cover is just a prop specially used to deceive Parisians."
The girl's smile paused for a moment, and the next second she realized that Gawain was joking, and then she burst into laughter.
Gawain then continued to explain.
"To be honest, I didn't pay too much attention to it. I just looked for a book from the bookshelf, hoping to read some books that were not related to my major to pass the time."
The apartment that Tobias rents for Gawain obviously belongs to a Frenchman. The entire bookshelf is filled with traditional paper books, which is rare nowadays when everything is digitized.
The girl could feel Gawain's honesty, he did not pretend to be sophisticated or artistic, and there was some sincerity in his frankness, which made her smile lighter.
"If Dostoevsky knew, he would be very sad."
"That's a pity. I'm a very heartbreaking bad guy."
"ha."
The smile in the girl's eyes overflowed lightly, and only then did Gawain be able to see her facial features clearly. There was a hint of stubbornness between the gentle brows, and the deep and clear blue eyes were like the Aegean Sea in midsummer in June, with the golden sunshine shining through the clear
There are sparkling waves on the blue.
The lips with a light cherry-colored halo rose slightly, and then the girl asked curiously,
"You know, not many people read physical books anymore. In fact, even if you play games with a tablet, I think it won't be too strange."
"Maybe in the US, but not in France. I'm so worried about being treated like an outlier here that just yesterday I tried to ask a gentleman how to get to the subway station and he gave me a look and I thought I
I said something wrong, and I found out later that I had been blacklisted from the moment I spoke in English."
Gawain was not kidding, what he was telling was a fact, a 100% true experience. Later, after asking Tobias, I found out that if you speak in English on the streets of Paris, you might actually get rolled your eyes.
Just look at Nadal and you will know——
Even though the "King of Clay" has written countless legends and myths in Paris, he is still not the most popular player at the French Open. The main reason is that his French is very, very bad, and Federer is the French who can never give up.
.
The girl laughed happily, and her entire eyebrows relaxed like the clear sunshine that parted the clouds and mist.
"Although this is very rude, I have to admit that what you said is true; and there is no way I can apologize to the Parisians."
"I swear, I will start learning French from this moment on."
"It's a perfect choice to start with 'Hello'. So, what's your major? I mean, if it's anything remotely close to 'Harry Potter'?"
"tennis."
The girl looked down Gawain's line of sight and saw Gawain's tennis equipment bag at a glance, "Ah, yes, of course, everything makes sense."
"What about you? Sorbonne?"
"Oh, how do you know?"
Gawain raised his chin and gestured to the overflowing books in the girl's backpack that were about to be thrown out, "That pile of academic books betrayed you. It's hard for me to imagine that besides the librarian, there are also
Who would come in and out of a cafe like this?"
"Okay, you guessed it right." The girl lowered her eyelids, hiding her light and blooming smile, and then turned to look at Gawain helplessly, "I am preparing a group project, so, you know, I have to
Submerge yourself in the sea of books and pray that you won’t drown before the subject is over.”
Gawain raised his hands, put his index finger on top of his middle finger, and made a praying gesture, as if he was helping the girl pray, which made the girl burst into laughter.
Just when Gawain was about to speak, another figure appeared next to him, sputtering a bunch of French, interrupting their conversation.
Gawain raised his head and saw a man standing in front of his tennis equipment bag, seemingly complaining. It seemed that he was dissatisfied with Gawain's equipment bag blocking his way.
Before Gawain could speak, the girl retorted directly, also in French, and she retorted confidently.
The man seemed to be intimidated by the girl's aura, probably because of his French language. He muttered and complained, but in the end he did not stop and moved forward.
Gawain stood aside from the beginning to the end, watching the man walk over, and politely said "Sorry", but the other man obviously had no intention of responding.
The girl waved her hand to Gawain.
"no need to say sorry."
"He just complained that your equipment bag was blocking the way, but I told him that this is the case in all cafes in Paris. The problem is not with the equipment bag, but with the Parisians themselves."
"If he calls himself a Parisian, then he should swallow these complaints and enjoy the cafes here. This is our culture."
"What's more, your equipment bag has been stuffed under the table to avoid any inconvenience as much as possible. You really don't need to apologize."
The girl was very forthright, spoke quickly, rolled her eyes, and did not hide her complaints.
"Let me tell you, what Parisians are best at is complaining. What they are best at is complaining."
"God, every day I want to yell at those people in the coffee shop: Shut up."
The girl's crackling words made Gawain laugh happily, and his mood became brighter. Now that he said this, he also became curious.
"By the way, I've always been very curious, why are all the cafes here like this? I mean, the space is already so narrow, and as a result they have to put small round tables together, so crowded that even strangers can't
They have to stick together."
"Oh, this is the romance of Parisians. We always believe that if we sit together awkwardly, and then touch our knees, feel the temperature of each other's skin, and then look into each other's eyes closely and communicate sincerely, then we can
Touch each other’s souls. So these seats are intentionally designed to be like this.”
"Even a stranger? I mean, a stranger at the next table? There's almost no space between tables here."
"Yes, even strangers bother each other and complain. This is part of the cafe culture."
Gawain suddenly realized it and was amazed. If he had not experienced it personally, it would be difficult for him to imagine that this is real. Then the first thought in his mind was,
"If the Norsemen came here, I think they would suffocate to death."
The girl was stunned for a moment, and then she immediately realized the complaint in her words. Her smile broke through the clouds like a ray of sunshine and fell on the clear blue sea.
