paris greens and seattle greys

Lunch was spent near arrêt cambronne today. I got off at ségur to take some pictures at the prefecture for my photojournalisme assignment. after successfully taking some unsuccessful shots, I decided I might as well explore the area. So I walked with the mission of getting lost—my only guide being haphazard intuition. First stop was a boulangerie to grab a quiche lorraine (my favorite, I don’t care unoriginal it is). Then thinking to myself, ”I need to eat this quiche and I don’t want to do it standing,” a park became my aim. I love the parks of paris. I spend my lunches of saucisson and baguettes, benches of thought, and pauses of observation here. There is something so cloisterous about a pocket of green in the midst of an industrial man-made scene.

After a 15min intended diversion through des petits rues, and under metro trusses, voilà. Walking on the outskirts of its center, I chose the perfect bench, under an old deciduous. There was only one other bench with an owner–a women and her two sons, wearing matching red vinyls to shield les gouts de pluie that had fallen earlier. This day reminded me of seattle with a refreshing batch of rain left kissing the concrete and brows of the city’s bustle; and a canvas smeared with only lush greens and somber greys. ”Why were we the only ones taking advantage of such a treasure of a space,” I pondered while searching through my sack? But before continuing such condescension towards those I had never met, I took them out and started to eat. My loraine in one hand and hemingway in the other—a complimentary paring to the end of a hard week of classes. I’ll be finishing at l’Institut d’Etudes Politiques de Paris in just a matter of days.

Oh, and there was one other occupier in our park, whom I would call quite possibly the most beautiful blackbird I have ever seen (but I guess there’s not much of a grueling competition when the only other class consists of a sorry and overpopulating nuisance of crows-forgive me for my audubon naivety). she stood on the ground with a serious gaze and beak wide open, attempting to make me respond to her request. I laughed to myself yet was not yet convinced, as I knew throwing one speck of anything would mean a new best friend. My sympathy won over, however, as I borrowed one of my quiche’s lardins. Blackbird took that lardin and must have went to town with it as I never saw her again.