Tomorrow, I will be like the Eiffel Tower—high in the sky.

Back on the ground, I will avoid getting lost in that  labyrinth the French call métro by walking the rues of Marais with the Petite Mademoiselle. We will gawk and stare and gape and goggle until our eyes pop out.  And, when totally In the Mood, I will sing Les Feuilles Mortes and Et si tu n´existais pas with my Iggy Pop accent.  The Petite Mademoiselle will cringe and sigh and say S’il vous plaît, ne chante pas!  So I will take her to  a sidewalk café and, with the help of Monsieur Croque and a carafe of wine, my French will improve. The Petite Mademoiselle  and I will become so much a part of the Parisien Panorama that, if Robert Doisneau were still alive, he would  turn us into a picture postcard.

A toute à l’heure!

related links: Packing & Suitcases + 4 Days in Paris + Yin Yang Paris + Stories set in stone + Inspiration or Appropriation? + Paris as a Cabinet of Curiosities + The Gaze of Victorine Meurent + Droit d’image

.

.