Antiphrasis:
Midnight. It’s raining. The buses go by nearly empty. On the bonnet of an AI near

the Bastille, an old man whose head is sunk in his shoulders and who isn’t wearing a hat thanks

a lady sitting a long way away from him because she is stroking his hands.
Then he goes

to stand on the knees of a man who is still sitting down.
Two hours earlier, behind the

gare de Lyon, this old man was stopping up his ears so as
not to hear a tramp who

was refusing to say that he should slightly lower the
bottom button of his underpants.