It seems that engagement on my previous brutalist posts was pretty sluggish. My readers don't seem to be into sharp-angled concrete blocks so I thought this picture taken Boulevard St Jacques in the 14th district would be more appealing to you. As to flower names, apart from tulips, I'm useless. Might as well call them... Continue Reading →
When my wife told me we were en route to Ivry Sur Seine for a visit of local brutalist architecture, I thought she was raving mad. To me, 1970s was another word for ugly. On rare occasions, the old and the new are next to one another. Most of the time, the entire town centre... Continue Reading →
When I saw this remarkable chestnut tree in L'Haÿ les Roses last Sunday, I immediately felt like tree-hugging. Above all, the warmish afternoon caused the rain to evaporate and created that vaporous background. The photo was left as is.
Mignonne alors voir si la rose... is a famous poem by 16th Century poet Ronsard. William Hawley has this translation: Mignonne, come let us see if the rose Which this morning opened Her robe of crimson to the sun, Has not already lost, at evening, The folds of her crimson robe, And her complexion, so... Continue Reading →
Sweet Freedom The other day, I found a map describing the state the freedom of Information, put together by Reporters Without Borders. I haven't yet been able to suppress the picture from my mind and I thought that my last post for 2018 would have to be dedicated to freedom of information and freedom in... Continue Reading →
And being a cyclist too. I'm reacting to a comment by my friend Heide in one of my previous posts where she pointed out that she wasn't cut out for cycling in Paris. But cycling in Paris doesn't mean that you have to throw your bike at speeding cars moving in the opposite direction with... Continue Reading →