The Existentialism of Deux Magot

One of my greatest joys was my first experience of Deux Magot.
This was due to having been one of those terribly obnoxious teenagers who consistently get a buzz from the rather pointed efforts of distorting other people's view of reality. I found great sport in trying to convince my associates that they were nothing more than a figment of my imagination. The more they denied it, the more I told them, well given I had created them, of course they would be indignant about it.
This sport was driven by a young love of philosophy.
I devoured every book I could get my hands on in regard to same, and found myself inextricably falling for the existentialists. Maybe it was my affection for Paris that drove this love, but I engrossed myself in the likes of Satre and de Beauvoir. I even made an effort to define the nature of post-modern literature and found myself hunting down Umberto Eco's 'Travels in Hyperreality'. I was that particular about my determination to be a philosopher. For a time even considered it as a potential career. After all I could have happily seen myself sipping wine in a Paris cafe, discussing the inexplicable nature of the universe.

Paris...as it shall always be

Thus my joy at being able to experience Deux Magot for myself for the first time. The haunt of the philosophers that came in droves to Paris. I fancied myself as one of them. The bourgeois ideal of such intellectual pursuits. I revelled in the rustic nature of the menu, which disassociated itself with the price of same. This was where I was meant to be I always thought, with my peers, deceased long before me.