The Veranda

The Paris I knew was the most heterosexual city imaginable. It was a kind of forced indoctrination into boy-girl coupling, with people draped all over each other everywhere you went. I had no idea how to find a respectable lesbian community, or any kind of community for that matter. So, in spite of my horror of American crassness, I kept loneliness at bay by hanging out in cafes with other American students, making one coffee last an afternoon and smoking cheap Gauloises. It was a puzzle, h...