In Paris, on a day that stayed morning until dusk
[The subject line is the opening line of Wislawa Szymborska's "Clochard."]
The first day I spent in Paris: 8 May 2009. There were daffodils painted on poles within CDG airport, and I paid I think two euro for a bouquet of muguets from a Latin Quarter street vendor:
I had to bring work along (plus ça change...), and I also had a requiem I'd promised to learn by the time I reached Prague, which would be the following morning. But first there were pork rillettes for breakfast, with gherkins...
and there were sights to be seen, including flowers tucked into statues (this one is of Romanian poet Mihai Eminescu)...
and pianos being played:
This entry was originally posted at http://zirconium.dreamwidth.org/131601.html.
The first day I spent in Paris: 8 May 2009. There were daffodils painted on poles within CDG airport, and I paid I think two euro for a bouquet of muguets from a Latin Quarter street vendor:
I had to bring work along (plus ça change...), and I also had a requiem I'd promised to learn by the time I reached Prague, which would be the following morning. But first there were pork rillettes for breakfast, with gherkins...
and there were sights to be seen, including flowers tucked into statues (this one is of Romanian poet Mihai Eminescu)...
and pianos being played:
Everything's mine but just on loan,
nothing for the memory to hold,
though mine as long as I look.
- Szymborksa, "Travel Elegy"
This entry was originally posted at http://zirconium.dreamwidth.org/131601.html.