Eyes wide open.

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Paris is full of marvels. Numerous big and fatty ones like the Arc de Triomphe and croissants, and smaller ones, like the elephant who is welcoming customers at Paul’s on Boulevard Haussmann, a bakery where you get those fatty croissants (and more importantly, although equally fat, Paul’s highly recommendable pains au chocolat, I just can’t get enough of them, so yummy), but you have to open your eyes, I know what I’m talking about, as I’ve been plenty of times to this shop without ever noticing its beautiful entrance, so I decided to keep my eyes open and discovered even more stunning attractions off Baedeker. A dachshund at Hermès, totally distracting me from all these fine leather goods, not for sale of course, otherwise he’d be sold out, I’m sure, an endearing sloth at Deyrolle, I’ve had a thing for taxidermy ever since I saw Hitchcock’s “The Man who knew too much”, but this guy was really adorable despite his being dead, I might be the only one who discovered a stunning detail in one of Cy Twombly’s paintings at the Centre Pompidou, maybe I was the only one who lingered long enough in front of it, and although I always wanted to steal a painting like Audrey Hepburn and Peter O’Toole once did in Paris, I had to give up that sudden urge as all of my favourite Cy Twomblys are way too expansive to do it just as elegantly, meaning “to do it at all”, I stood in front of Marcel Proust’s old dwelling, (another dead guy, why are they all dead?), and was amazed that he lived almost next door to my favourite Starbucks where I had a Soy Caffè Latte Venti (I’m sorry, I know it’s not what you are expected to have in Paris, but try ordering soy milk with your café au lait) and in the end of this open eye excursion I was almost thrown out after entering an intriguing building on Boulevard Haussmann where I saw the most beautiful elevator I’ve ever seen. Totally worth it.

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3 thoughts on “Eyes wide open.

  1. Thank you for a wonderful journey in beautiful Paris!Deyrolle,Hicthcock,Tombly,I was with until you drop your starbuck on my lap! with a smile.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. What a truly wonderful article that makes us see things afresh! I think this would also make a wonderful film scenario – a Proustian who drinks coffee at Starbucks and finds his or herself caught up in a web of Hitchcockian intrigue after being lured into a beautiful building just to see the elevator. It reminds me a little of ‘L’appartement’ with Vincent Cassel and Monica Bellucci.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. I once had a weekend in a locked gallery filled only with some of Twombly greatest paintings and sculptures. I was entirely on my own, moving them around, placing them where I wanted them to be, readying the rooms for the start of the proper hang. They were quite mine.
    And I saw many of them again at the Pompidou, quietly acknowledging me, remembering our times together. It was difficult to resist touching them. My hand hovering in that forbidden space that surrounds works of art now so firmly in the public space, museum-ified, but dtill mine. We were like protagonists in an elicit affair remeeting in front of their partners. Mute, trembling on the edge of tearing into the future, clutching each other, pulling, and running, running, running away

    Liked by 2 people

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