Tolosa

There are days when you're caught in a crossfire in the middle of a high rise council estate on the edge of Toulouse.  Well, not always, but today was one of those.  
I already felt like I'd lost several hours of my life that I'd never manage to get back and then hunger and impatience kicked in.  
Mu squeezed my hand and told me to be Sartrian.  I gave her a look that she interpreted as 'shut up' but I was actually quite interested in how she was going to spin Sartre into making us feel good about our current situation. 
There were two options  - we'd run away and get on a tram to the centre of town, where we'd find a little, cheap restaurant and then get the train back home,  or we'd hold strong and agree to be collateral damage.
I was unsure I had enough money to assure the former, so we took the shrapnel. 
Anti-vaxers were demonstrating outside the metro at Jean Jaurès.  The speaker was young and confused  and only a splattering of people had gathered round him.  The CRS were out in force however and circled the little group, protecting themselves with riot shields and canisters of tear gaz.  I felt a pang of pity for them but it didn't last long.
I gathered a sad Jo together and sat her down at a café table with a glass of white wine .
Outside a noisy wedding cortège passed by; car horns, white, green and red ribbons, Algerian flags waving out of car windows.  
Jo didn't feel like eating so I downed an assiette de charcutérie on my own, while she had her liquid lunch.