Parisian afternoon.

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I love Paris in March as much as in any other month. It really is a moveable feast. Even on a grey day. Hemingway never exaggerates. I’ve been here since 2 P.M. Since then, I’ve had several coffees. Mostly au lait, regardless of my lactose intolerance, they’re so good, and some little black ones after dinner, they’re even better. Between all those coffees, I studied architecture and shop windows. Both fields offer quite a number of fascinating examples, architecture in particular, as you find Chanel windows all over the world, okay, Baby Dior maybe not so much, although they’re a thrill, but you won’t find another Haussmannic stroke of genius on display, anyway, I won’t bore you with clichés like the Eiffel tower, although I think it’s an utter stroke of genius, too, it wasn’t on my path anyway, but I’ll give you Hermès and my friend Emily’s old Parisian pied à terre right behind the Comédie Française, beautifully situated between the Opera and the Louvre, so very close to Le Nemours, the place where I had most of my coffees and a huge glass of Chablis to bid the day good-bye (while suddenly smiling directly into Dominique Blanc’s face when she was leaving Le Nemours), right in Paris’ 1st arrondissement, and some other façades I enjoyed, ironically none of them by Haussmann, but all of them made me smile and linger in contemplation. As Gertrude Stein would have put it if she were me: a façade is a façade is a façade…

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2 thoughts on “Parisian afternoon.

  1. I feel very honoured to be mentioned in such a beautiful post. Your photos and writing not only conjure up remembrance of things past but make me feel as if I was there, enjoying this moveable feast as well. Looking forward to the next article already!

    Liked by 1 person

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