“When he said they weren’t ready, he meant he wasn’t ready, that he was worried about rushing the prints, that he didn’t think he could do it, he said he needed a vacation, this is when I laughed, because his life is like this long vacation, an endless vacation, but he says he needs one and he needs one now, this instant, he even said this, he said this instant or immediately or something ridiculous like that, and because of this he’s worried he’s not going to have all the printing done before the show, there’s too much work. He went on and on and it was like watching one of those very talky movies from the 60s, you know, very nouvelle vague, this endless talking about nothing, about some existential crisis that means nothing but it’s entertaining so we let it continue, it goes on, and while it’s going on you start to question the meaning of your own existence because the talk is endless, it’s interminable, and you question if you even want to remain alive, and that’s that I was thinking as he was complaining about his life, because he’s so busy, and no one pays him enough, and then he got so angry that I kept laughing he left, and I could hardly breath, so imagine Abbott and Costello doing Waiting for Godot, that’s what it felt like to me, a comedic existential crisis, but before he left he promised to finish the job, all of it, and now I’m not sure he won’t speak to me for a few weeks at least.” Etienne de Bosch takes another swig of champagne. Abbie can tell he’s going to finish the bottle in the next few minutes. And that Philipe will retrieve another one. And that the two of them will drink heavily into the evening.