Monday, February 12, 2007

When I moved to my apartment, I believed that the street that it overlooks was simply an alley. In walking the neighborhood I determined that this passage was a street of old Paris. These paths exist in much of the city often serving residences some with private gardens and courtyards. Mine is effectively an alley as the businesses on the adjacent streets expanded through the common walls so what were once storefronts are now boarded over. Apartment entrances, or at least backdoors are still accessed by the street and a couple of storefronts are still in use.

One is a work/gallery space of an artisan. Needing a mid afternoon break I went there looking for a small gift. The artist, a dark haired woman in her forties who’s face you would never consider cute or pretty but it might be said to be beautiful, discussed the location of her gallery, with my commenting on the dreariness of the street. At that moment the grocers van pulled up, the rear entrance to the grocery being directly across, and out jumped the grocers son, a stunningly handsome young man of maybe eighteen. “Yes it can be dreary,” she commented as we both considered the boy, “but it is inexpensive and at times has a view”

Be still my heart

Raphael - Schengen



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