Jean:
Tu trouves que j’ai du charme ?
C’est ce qu’on dit à quelqu’un quand on le trouve pas beau !
Irene:
Mais le charme, c’est mieux que la beauté.
On peut résister à la beauté, mais pas au charme.

You moved from Boston to Paris into a little apartment on the rue du Faubourg-Saint-Denis. I shoed you our neighborhood, my bars, my school. I introduced you to my friends, my parents. I listened to your texts, your singing, your hopes, your desires, your music. You listened to mine. My Italian, my German, a bit of Russian. I gave you a walkman. You gave me a pillow. And one day, you kissed me. Time went by, time flew and everything seemed so easy, so simple, so free, so new, so unique. We went to the movies, we went dancing, we went shopping, we laughed, you cried, we swam, we smoked, we shaved, sometimes for no reason, or for a reason. Yes, sometimes for a reason. I brought you to the academy, I studied for my exams, I listened to your singing, to your hopes, your desires, your music. You listened to mine.