Pied de Terre

This is the side wall of the local barbershop.  Here is the other.

Mr. Rogers went to Country Club College.  I don't know what Bob the Painter has to do with the area.  Maybe he is from here, but I don't know.

I took these with my rangefinder 6x6 camera on my walk around.  Nothing came out of it.  Still, I paid to have the film processed, so I'm going to use them.

I got a new place to stay in Paris.  I'm renting a pied de terre on the Ile de la Cite.  Pretty cool, I hope.  I will live like a local, wear my trousers rolled in a French cuff, don a striped fisherman's jersey, be shod in espadrilles, and sport a beret.  I want to be inconspicuous and blend in.

Yea, I know, everyone everywhere wears the same thing now.  I hate it.  I want the world out there to stay picturesque for me.

I am off today and wasting the day.  I am not proud of the fact, but I don't imagine I'll fix the situation this afternoon.  Ili is out of town for a couple of days working, so I am left to my own resources.

Yesterday was 9-11.  I don't need a parent permission slip for people born after that event now.  I will frolic with those who have never known a world without metal detectors and deep-seated paranoia.

Paris is more dangerous than the last time I was there, they say.  Beware and stay on guard.  Before the accident, I never worried.  Let's see how I handle the young ruffians now.