Flesh And Other Fragments Of Love - Plot & Excerpts
THE FIST PIERRE Simone and I dreamed of an open relationship. We went through the motions of a wedding in white. For our families’ sake. The ceremony, the reception, the honeymoon. The white gown, the crown of orange blossoms, the veil, the bride’s bouquet. We did everything according to their rules, knowing that once united, we would turn our backs forever on their old-fashioned, absurd, incomprehensible customs. We had been raised according to the principles of an unfair morality that we rejected with every fibre of our bodies. We were young, part of the youth who survived the war unscathed. Our apartment was always full of graduate students, professors, artists, communists, hippies. We loved their rebellion. Of all our friends, we preferred the outsiders, the losers, the crazies.
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