An imp of flânerie must have prompted us to follow a woman on rue de la Volta through a shabby unlocked door. I thought it would lead into one of those secret courtyards, so frequent in Paris. Instead, we found ourselves at an AA meeting, held at the headquarters of a Communist party. Gathered in a room lit only by tea candles, round a long table covered with white table cloth, were middle-aged Americans, intent on a female voice which seemed to flow from a speaker. Soothing and hypnotic, the voice guided the group through a series of facial exercises: "Raise your brows as high as you can," "Now shut your eyes as tight as possible, now open them as wide as you can." It also described the sensations that the participants should feel at each step: the alteration of tension and relaxation, in their temples, or in the corners of their mouths. On the table, there were white cards with cliché sayings printed on them: "Keep an open mind," "First thing first"... and plates with barely visible cookies, and pitchers of presumably non-alcoholic punch. "This is a cult," A. whispered, none too softly. "Let's go," I said, unsure how much longer A. would want to observe this strange ceremony. "Let's go," she answered in a tone suggesting we were here against our will.