From the Dodds, at the Porte Dorée, I had thought of moving to the Fieve Hotel, in the Avenue Simon-Bolivar. I had intended to leave this evening, but I haven't asked for my bill. I, who have travelled so many kilometres over the various continents, I was scared at the thought of taking the métro from the Porte Dorée to the Buttes-Chaumont. After a week at the Porte Dorée, I was afraid of feeling out of my element there. Maybe I'll get up the courage to leave tomorrow morning. But really, I dreaded arriving at the Avenue Simon-Bolivar at dusk, and a too sudden break with the habits I'd got into here at the Porte Dorée. So I went and had dinner, as I had the previous days, at the café in the Boulevard Soult. Before returning to the hotel, I walked along the perimeter of the zoo as far as the umbrella pine. I've left the window wide open, I've put out the light and I'm lying on the bed with my arms crossed behind my head. I've become attached to this room, and that's why I'm reluctant to leave.
