journal

The strain of carrying provisions home in my backpack has done something to my spine. The one night I am relieved of having to write late into the night – a self-imposed pressure – pleasure – I awaken at 2:00 am and thereafter hourly with twinging muscle something, left side, below ribs

Today our petite ville, little city, the 18eme arrondissement, Montmartre. Checked out the Marché Ordener, not because J. hasn’t been following a private progress around supermarkets in foreign parts and we have nothing to eat, but to see what a city market offers in Paris. The produce was good,

There seems to be barely time to reflect on what we are seeing or what I am saying and how I am presenting it in these posts. The impetus behind which was not merely to record our travels but also to open up in the writing a formal dimension wherein

Following our strategic progress arrondissement by arrondissement, we tackled the Beaubourg. Thought to. But setting forth from one of the seedier stations, harrassed by cigarette sellers and ticket pushers – a wall of them on the steps up to the station – Barbès-Rochechouart, we were limited in our choice of lines to

The temperature drops again, down below 14 degrees, and the rain falls intermittently throughout the day. I’m sitting looking out at a dense grey sky over Montmartre, behind the rear tower of Sacre Coeur. The courtyard behind our apartment has string netting stretched above and between it and the

Our first Saturday in Paris, we headed out to the periphery rather than in to the centre, to the flea markets around Porte de Clignancourt. Bus 85. A false start. We went the wrong way, to Luxembourg rather than Mairie de St.-Ouen. Discovering our mistake early, we hopped off