There was a crooked man and he walked a crooked mile He made a crooked deal and he blew a crooked pile He dug a crooked hole. And he sank the crooked isle And they all went to hell in a stew of crooked bile.
Paris, June 1995. In a luxury restaurant, a waiter is violently attacked by a guest. No one moves. Neither the Russian couple, nor the wife of the aggressor, nor the two young traders come to celebrate their first jobs on the floor. This book questions the responsibility of each of us and shows that to do nothing is also an action.
