Thursday, September 12, 2019
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.