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Test number 1 in english, from Part 1, chapter 5
One sees Tombs running across the bridge from the back.
The camera sticks to him face-to-face moving backward, Sergio Leone-like. Him, that is a slender devil with freckled faced and curly whiskers.
A dolly travelling strides smoothly from left to right and show his flared trousers trembling in hyper slow motion, his Church’s hammering the violet grey asphalt of the Williamsburg Bride while a scroll of girders runs shot from the top with the feeling of a giant roder pedaling inside an iron cage.
Sweat runs alongside Tomb’s battered skull. His peroxide ponytail is dancing in the whirling wind. He keeps on running with quivering eyelids and the glaze of a drunkard or an addict.
Tombs is not alone. Coming over the pedestrian way of the bridge, he stumbles into polysarcous corpulents in bombers, hallucinated crack-heads, traders burst into tears, Hasidics with their cycling wheel on the top of their head; women in burkas, she-joggers as thin as mice, hare-hrishnas in bright orange; and a distant cousin of John Gotti with magpie shoes, fairy trousers and a silk shirt: that is a never-ending humanity: guys bound to die before the weekend, dolls their squirrel would give the boot, punks condemned to the gutter ; junkies to be arrested by the NYPD or next to end their lives in the East River.
They are leaks and breaches all along the rotten bridge. Mindful not to be sucked down through the rails, Tombs, the no-hoper with the veal jerkin, crashes into a pregnant Satmar and knocks her over. She swears on him, talks about her lawyer, shouts her uncle is a rabbi and her brother a Vigilante.
The more Tombs advances, the more Brooklyn moves away... No doubt the black monkeys are after him. They’ve put up a switchpoint on his space-time and he’s sinking down that hole...
End of the shot : Tombs groans and pants; his calves are eaten up by a pair of cramps. How many yards between his Essex Street Penthouse and Bedford Avenue ? Is Lana waiting for him ? What about Amy Jones, their last client. In the back of his head an obsession : “Get your motor runnin' / Head out on the highway / Looking for adventure / In whatever comes our way... »
This traduction from the french to the english is a test by the author who's not a native writer. Just a taste of atmosphere