Put these tough words back into the soup

My friend Perig has already reviewed 70 pages of Les Mailles sanguines. I have the pages in front of me, took a look at them last night when the choir returned. This text seems so strange to me now. It is, therefore, high time that I put myself back together again by trying to extract as much slag as possible. This writing, which spread over seven different years, is therefore far from over. I want this novel as polite as a diamond. Perhaps this would require deleting all written words. Maybe I’m just being stubborn for nothing. Maybe...

I still haven’t heard from the publisher. That doesn’t matter. If he agrees to publish this story, I can provide him with a copy in good order. Perig is conscientious, and I really like this examination from a French man. Not a word seems to escape his scrutiny. He does not understand certain expressions (including "snoreau"), which means how much the borders of our vocabularies have widened. But understanding remains, as does emotion. He seems to like reading it, it’s already a start.

I have to reread and review this text before it really no longer belongs to me. On the job, you have to put your work back and make fun of the time that remains.