He’s even bought a bike. It’s 6 p.m. And he’s on his way back to the apartment. He’s happy, he’s beginning to take control of his life here. In the living room, Tobias is smoking a bubble pipe and tapping away on Otto’s computer. ‘Want some juice, Loulou?’ Armand nods; he won’t refuse any experience; he’s in a state of discovery. Ten minutes go by. Armand has a sensation of self-awareness that is both simple and confused. Not like a sudden slap in the face, more of a hazy feeling of happiness; a synthetic calm. Relaxing with the same simplicity as when you dance. You breathe lightly. The first times you take it you don’t have a powerful high. You feel happy without really knowing why. You don’t get the too-violent effect of other narcotics. Before you abuse it, it’s a subtle background state. You feel happy, talkative, and come to think of it, like you could fuck well, too. The two of them chat, Tobias rolling his cigarettes, Armand taking bigger and bigger drags on the hookah, which looks like a holiday souvenir.
