Paris Notes

The shadows are sculpted into the stones of the church across the street. The sun also is telling me how dirty my kitchen windows are. Yesterday I traipsed back to the Flower Market on the Ile St Louis behind the Hotel-Dieu, with my shopping trolley, to find myself a Mexican Orange Tree for the kitchen porch. I also pulled a few weedy catalpa shoots out of the cobbles, the offspring of the ones that line the square. Two of them look like they might survive. 

Loud car radio music in the middle of the night. I was awake, listened, went back to sleep, closing the windows on the street and opening the kitchen one. This morning, Saturday, the street is calm. I like the noises, cars cruising for parking spots, people whose offices expand to the sidewalk and their cell phones, a child talking to a parent, a clock striking the quarter hours. I think I'll go to the Centre Pompidou later.