Jan 25th, 2010
I find myself in a little cafe in the 10th district of Paris, France. Drinking a cafe creme and wondering if F. Scott Fitzgerald or Ernest Hemingway sat on this corner, watching the Parisians make their way down this cobbled street.
The architecture is a marvel, and it rivals any sight I have seen on my travels throughout Europe in the past. Their buildings, and gardens, and doorways are the stuff of artisans and masterings of form.
I am content to simply be it’s witness – for I am enriched by doing so.
In a few days I am off to Dublin, where familiar faces await.