Another book similar to "The Other Paris" but told from the point of view of someone who lived deliberately as a clochard for a couple of years in Paris. It gives an intimate picture of the life, but it is definitely not a romantic picture. I am still left wondering how people choose this life (some do, though many don't; they just end up there) as it is a very hard life. Yes, you have a certain freedom, but on the other hand you are under the full weight of demands for minimal survival, which rear up again and again on a daily basis. It turns such everyday needs as eating, sleeping and cleaning into demanding problems.
This book was written post-war, and you can already sense the author's awareness of living in a disappearing world. Both this and the other book are so reminiscent of Henry Miller's books on his life in Paris - already by the 40s, this life had become a stereotype of itself, and image to be aspired after.
Most of the people in this life are troubled souls - the artists that emerged out of this milieu were lucky in that they were very good at something, which in the end allows them to escape the poverty and grind.
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