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Foucault was the one person I met in France that I could talk to. He was a mensch. You know whether you agree with him or not because you know what he is saying.

I speak French fluently, so that really helped.

I loved France, although I initially thought they were stubborn for always speaking French.

French was my first language.

I talked about the persecution of Algerians and told about racism in my childhood. And it was as if, after that, I wasn't French anymore.

I read French much better than I speak.

I was born in Paris, and my mother was a French teacher, but then I rebelled against my upbringing and studied Spanish in school. So now I just speak bad French and bad Spanish.

Mom spoke to us in Swiss when we were little.

I am the most un-French Frenchman you will ever meet.

Oh, I was brought up in the north of France, and I had a very enjoyable childhood with my family working as entrepreneur.