Every morning I pass a house with a peculiar aspect ratio. The ground floor splurges out in a bungalow style, while a small section at the back of the house rises up to make the building three storeys high. A bedroom should have a good view, a lounge should be spacious. It makes perfect sense, but looks odd.
Another strange thing about this house is the large Rodin statue in the porch. It's a writhing woman carved in white marble, almost life size, and clearly much too heavy to lift. She lies there, in ecstasy or agony, pushed into a corner like a prisoner, her sinuous lines an uncomfortable contrast with the exact white corners of the modern house.
5 comments:
Long time readers will have seen this post before, in 2005! I'm posting it again with the addition of a photograph.
I decided to reinvigorate this particular series of posts since the houses I pass every morning are an abiding and constant part of my life here in France, and also one of my little enjoyments. Expect more in the coming weeks.
She's got lovely feet.
I miss that about town life, walking past people's houses and observing them.
How mysterious.
Better to make you pause than not, though? And how lucky you are to live somewhere with such bizzarre houses! Have you ever met or seen the people who live there?
Hello Katy,
Thanks for your comment. Walking past the same houses every day makes me want to make up stories about them, and I guess if they weren't a bit bizarre, I shouldn't be so inclined. More houses coming soon...
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