I have done a lot of intense brain-work with the problem of Campus France, and I have come to one irrefutable, undeniable conclusion.

Campus France, Ladies and Gentlemen, is the CIA.

I can’t account for any other reason why you cannot 1) call them, 2) know where they are exactly located, 3) receive emails back from them or 4) have a contact person.

I mean, how secretive and sneaky must we be about this business? I’m pretty sure they’ve done extensive research on me and found all sorts of scary things such as my one parking ticket, my one termination from a job and my one speeding ticket.

They know I am handy with a phlebotomist’s needle and am petrified of balloons, that I beat my brother mercilessly (he has scars)… (I jest) and that I have a bad case of OCD.

But why all of these combining factors are inhibiting me from getting a visa, I shall never know. And if you’re reading this, CIA–er, I mean Campus France, please PLEASE give me my acceptance letter.

I’m not afraid to beg. In French.

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