I was back in Paris last week and returned for the first time to the neighbourhood where I used to live on the Western side of Paris. The sun shone bright and low in the sky, reflecting off tarmac spread on the cracks in the road, making it look like silver caligraphy or a hot lava flow. Daffodils were in bloom and I met our gardener having his evening beer (well deserved as always) in the cafe at the end of our road. "Ca commence à pousser" I told him, and we laughed a knowing laugh together.
No comments:
Post a Comment