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A twist of fate took me into Paris today, and I confess, I behaved very badly. I spent the entire afternoon walking hither and thither taking photographs wherever I could find them. Strangely enough, I found rather a lot of them, over three hundred if you must know. Given that this week marks the third birthday of
this blog, and that it also marks the second birthday of
James Weekend Reflections, I thought I would dare to share with you a rather large dose of today's photographic bounty, if you can bear it, from a day spent misbehaving in Paris, including rather a few photos containing reflections of various sorts. I hope you won't catch a bad case of sensory overload and bail out on me before the sunset. So, without further ado, the walk started (and ended) at the Place de la Concorde, as there is a convenient underground parking space there, almost immediately in front of the American Embassy. Ah, Paris. What is it about Paris that makes people from all over the world want to come here ? Is it because Paris may be among the most photogenic cities on earth ? I don't know how many hundreds of cameras I saw today, in all sizes and forms, but they were everywhere I looked. Collectively, I wonder how many photos are snapped in Paris on average every day ? Millions ? More ?
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I have to admit, and Grenouille please forgive me, I can't help but look at the ladies when walking around Paris. Along with cameras, there is an abundance of lovely ladies to admire in the City of Light.
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Couldn't help but stroll through the Tuilleries park, one of the highlights of which are the people who come out with sailboats to rent for sailing on the fountain ponds.
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For some reason these ancient sailboats always make me think of the book/film The Red Balloon. Paris from another age.
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A red headed boy set about launching his ship across the circular sea. Some forty years ago I too was a red headed boy in Paris. Funny how some things in life go full circle, returning to where they started. You may want to start counting the reflections from here forward.
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Another time-honored tradition in Paris parks . . . feeding the pigeons. Were it Wednesday I would have put this in for
World Bird Wednesday. Anyway, not sure an ordinary Parisian pigeon would be suitable birdlife for that venerable venue.
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What walk in Paris would be complete if it didn't get to the Louvre at some point, that focalisation of fine arts from throughout history. One can feel the weight of culture in the air. Or is that just pyramid power ?
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Not far from the Louvre, I liked the looks of this bar, called Bar N'Importe Quoi... which I read as basically meaning "Anything Goes". They seemed to welcome hats, judging from the two in the window, and a third in a reflected form... who was that masked man ? (That's what the ladies looking out of the poster were asking.)
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Perhaps I will add angels to the list of abundant visual gastronomy in Paris, along with cameras and ladies. For unfathomable reasons, I saw quite a few angels today. At many angles. These two were beseeching me to deposit any loose coins I might be carrying in their treasure chest.
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In a church near the Louvre . . . Sainte Genevieve, patron saint of Paris . . .
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It being rather warm this afternoon, after a few hours of the incredibly hard work which is seeking out photographs waiting to be stolen from the greedy jaws of passing time, I took a break in a café, ordering a tall cold panaché. (that's half beer half citronnade for the un-initiated, very refreshing) The interior decoration of the place consisted nearly entirely of portraits of Native Americans. Someone went to a lot of trouble to collect all those portraits and have them nicely framed. My hat was off to whoever it was that cares enough to want to keep their memory alive, while so many would rather simply forget the whole tragic story.
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My path led me past the Paris stockmarket building, which is not open to the public, as I was informed by a perfectly nasty doorman. No wonder ; they wouldn't want any outsiders to see all the shenanigans and black dealings that go on inside those circular walls. Much better to be out sailing a sailboat in the Tuilleries than to try to make any sense of the convoluted chaos which worldwide stock markets have become. Bands of thieves and lairs of the larcenous, working with virtual derivative tools so complex that even the criminal minds which conceived them no longer control the monster they have created. Thumbs down on investment bankers and traders everywhere. Throw them to the lions, I say. The world would be better off without that breed of leeches who create nothing of value, they just suck the life blood of others. (sorry for ranting, but it really infuriates me that the very small holding in stock I have - err, had - is worth ZERO today, thanks to irresponsible market forces, driven by speculation, managed by people with six or seven digit salaries and bonuses) Outside the stockmarket building I saw this stack of road signs, and figured these must be the directions the traders are following. No wonder we are in such a MESS today.
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Putting that behind me, I wandered on, and stumbled on two damsels with their heads in the clouds, dreaming, dreaming of a better world. This may be the most ethereal reflection photo I've ever taken. I'm not one for patting myself on the back, far from it, but I am rather pleased with this one. Perhaps also because there is almost a
glimpse of décolleté here.
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A building is being torn down outside and above the Forum des Halles, the old market of central Paris. Fortunately, they hadn't torn off all the reflecting panels on the outside yet, leaving a vast array of reflections shining just a little bit longer there.
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One sees the strangest sights on side streets in Paris. Lions . . .
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And bears . . . (I was keeping my eyes peeled for tigers)
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Funny, apparently I am not the only one out there with strong feelings about banks and traders ! Yo !
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Urban street art appears in many forms all over Paris. Rarely fails to capture my full attention.
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I mentioned angels earlier. This sidewalk chalk artist was well along in an angelic rendering in the square by the Centre Pompidou.
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Adjacent to the angels, another artist was busy on a large mural.
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He was accepting alms from passersby to put food on the table. I tossed a coin in the tin. I hope he makes enough to survive on for some years to come. Producing art on Paris promenades seems a worthy calling, imho. An honest undertaking.
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"Je suis an Artiste" he proclaimed. "I am an Artist"
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The famous fountains by the Pomidou Center. One of the most photographed sites in Paris no doubt, up there with the Eiffel Tower and Jim Morrison's grave.
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There she was again, that cryptic messenger . . . It's a bit hard to read, but the bubble says , "Things Got Out of Control".
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This enigmatic face was in the Eglise St Merry, or Saint Merry's Church, a block from the Pompidou Center. Which just happens to be where la Grenouille and I got married 19 years ago come December.
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Another trip in reflections. And there is that guy in the hat again. He seems to be everywhere I go.
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On the footbridge across the Seine between the Ile Saint Louis and the Ile de la Cité, behind Notre Dame Cathedral, a gentleman was creating large soapbubbles, using two sticks with strings between them. What better way to entrance all those people passing by who may still be children at heart ? (Like me ?) I won't tell you how many pictures of giant bubbles I took.
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Crazy undulating forms in irridescence.
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At the far end of the bubbling bridge, a strangely decorated form of locomotion awaited me. A rebel on a mission. He didn't like traders either.
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An unbelievable assortment of objects adorned his most original vehicle.
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The Memory Factory... err, the Souvenir Factory... so this is where they all come from.
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Did you ever see a tree with legs ? Well, there's a first time for everything.
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By the time I got to the far end of the Ile de la Cité, the sun was already going down behind the Eiffel Tower in the distance.
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And by the time I got back to the Place de la Concorde, night was falling fast. With that I bid you good night ; for traipsing about Paris making hundreds of photographs is exhausting work, errr, fun, and I'm ready for my beauty sleep. I hope you enjoyed an extra long installment on this continuing creation, and that it didn't prevent you from doing anything important you needed to get done today.
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