She wasn’t regular about her visits. You might find her sitting there very early in the morning. Or sometimes she appeared around midnight and stayed until closing time. Along with Le Bouquet and La Pergola, it was one of the cafés in the neighborhood that closed the latest,
and the one with the strangest clientele. I often ask myself, now that time has passed, if it wasn’t her presence alone that gave this place and these people their strangeness,
as if she had impregnated them all with her scent.
In the Café of Lost Youth by Patrick Modiano