Archive for May, 2009

Busted

May 31, 2009

Busted

A Couple of Carthaginian Communists

May 27, 2009

Perhaps, in Paris, the pursuit of pleasure is pathological.

St-Étienne-du-Mont

May 24, 2009

DuMont

Soir

May 18, 2009

Soir

A Trick of the Light

May 17, 2009

Interesting article from the Inside Science news service, complete with funky visuals, about the effects of vision we often don’t appreciate and the idea of illusions.

Now you see it, now you don’t.

From Arts & Letters Daily.

Séverin

May 15, 2009

Séverin

Austerlitz

May 15, 2009

Austerlitz

Last Month…

May 13, 2009

Another sample from the travel(b)logue. I’ll come up with more interesting material soon, I swear.

13 April, 2009, Paris, France

A day of histories. Recalling the last week is like remembering the scenes in a martial arts movie; a blur of action and adventure. Much walking and enjoying — wonderment, even.

Yesterday was Pere Lachaise with C. The memorials of the holocaust evoking deep emotion. Then dinner with “the historians” at Chez Janou — a sumptuous feast topped off by an endless all-you-can eat vat of chocolate mousse (obscene, really), followed by humorous, drunken and bumbling attempts to put Place des Vosges in proper historical context. Today we walked over to the Pantheon, always arresting in its bold assertions of secular, republican Frenchness. There is something transcendentally cold about that place, beyond the actuality of a chill down in the crypt. Foucault’s Pendulum seems an airy jest of playfulness in comparison.

Afterwards to Jardin Luxembourg (packed! — again) and Saint Séverin, devilish and dark with its encrustations of pointy gargoyles. Becoming a favorite, that one.

Shakespeare and co. seemed particularly regal and historic today, and I snapped a wonderful shot out the second floor window of Notre-Dame and the cherries in bloom. Picked up John Burrow’s A History of Histories in soft, which I had been intrigued about since spotting it in Victoria in hardback…

Home along the Seine, past the ever vigilant Saint Genevieve and across Ile Saint Louis and through the edge of the Marais. Tired today, almost feeling the weight of the Parisian past(s) on my shoulders. Tomorrow, like the aristos of old, we may flee the city for the idyllic locale of sleepy Versailles.


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