Drôle d'été Comedy Club - Laurent Febvay
Risoul
We all have a Proustian memory, don't we?
For me, it's the smell of basil, for you, your grandfather's cologne or a Backstreet Boys song—those things that remind us of the child we once were. And they're all different. We don't have the same references; we are strangers.
But as surprising as it may seem to you, tonight, for the duration of a show, you'll see that I am you and you are me.
We've all done a ridiculously boring job, sorted racks in a supermarket, had a girlfriend/boyfriend who broke our heart, lost our keys before going to work, bought clothes when we're already in the red, checked our passport 56 times before getting on a plane.
In short, real life.
The kind that makes us human, that reminds us where we are but without forgetting where we come from, and reminds us of the smell of basil.
For me, it's the smell of basil, for you, your grandfather's cologne or a Backstreet Boys song—those things that remind us of the child we once were. And they're all different. We don't have the same references; we are strangers.
But as surprising as it may seem to you, tonight, for the duration of a show, you'll see that I am you and you are me.
We've all done a ridiculously boring job, sorted racks in a supermarket, had a girlfriend/boyfriend who broke our heart, lost our keys before going to work, bought clothes when we're already in the red, checked our passport 56 times before getting on a plane.
In short, real life.
The kind that makes us human, that reminds us where we are but without forgetting where we come from, and reminds us of the smell of basil.
