The autumn light falls at such an angle, penetrating the leaves still clinging to the branches, that it creates a gentle radiance like an old thatched roof. No-one can resist something like that.
But before the day is the night, or as Thelonious Monk mused, it must always be dark, otherwise we wouldn’t need lights at all, would we ? Stade Charlety was all lit up for the game between Paris FC and Laval, the town in the Mayenne where everyone talks in palindromes. It was something.
The game was so boring an earthquake could have rippled through and even the Ultras wouldn’t have noticed, each team magnanimously refusing to score just to keep the other side in it. Finally the Fog rolled in and put an end to it.
With Sunday we start again, at the market at Place Monge, with figs, carrots and fish, not to mention the yellow, twisty girolles or the sliding face of the woman pacing the aisles, who has a different view of this secular church than we do.
Always time to peruse the photo books and slightly worn shoes….
Arènes de Lutece, the old Roman coliseum, where, if you slow down enough, the ball hangs in the air forever.
Rolling down the hill from Monge - bypassing the glories of the Pantheon, St Etienne du Mont and Biblio Sainte Geneviève - I leave the reader with the small mystery of the rebus on the side of a building. If I tell you the street, you’ll look it up. What is it and what does it mean ?