A singularly unexceptional anecdote coming up here so no need to hold on to your hats folks, but anyway...
There I was taking photos in the legendary little upstairs library in Shakespeare and Company when I said to my photo tour companion Janice 'You know, whenever I look for some significant sign [is there another sort?] in this place, one always pops up!'
And as soon as those fateful words had left my mouth my eyes fell upon this weathered volume on one of the dark and dusty shelves.
If anyone is good at reading tea leaves or necromancy or dead poets or anything like that then do let me know what this can all mean. I've discovered that Dorothy Eden' bibliography has a definite dark side to it, with titles like Lamb To The Slaughter, We Are For The Dark, Death Is A Read Rose, and The Deadly Travellers, not forgetting Face Of An Angel and Shadow Of A Witch writing as Mary Paradise.
She died in 1982, and something tells me there's a message I'm not getting here, and I'm dying to know what it is. Could this old poem hold any answers?
This was taken on my Montmartre photo tour by a photographer client - Emilia actually, thanks! - and pretty much sums up the spirit of the things.
Lots of fun and surprises, for me as well as for everyone else. It's surprising how often things change in this over-the-toply artistic area of Paris.
This guy, and about ten others like him, for example, appeared a while back and have since become something of a permanent part of this particular tour. Until someone swipes them all and something else appears, that is.
In this case, someone has dripped all this primary coloured paint down him, and I can't even remember what colour he was before, but it wasn't like that. And for all I know he'll probably have changed (or disappeared) again the next time I shoot by here.
He makes me think of the Smiths lyric 'I'd like to drop my trousers to the queen', with his tongue sticking out at the world for all to see - if anyone knows who he is do let me know!
A great little grammar book for those of us who... have the need to read great little grammar books, but that's not the point, really.
It's more about using the title for fun, and it's true: I'm sure there's a lot of things I used to know that I've now forgotten, like the sound of my grandmother's voice and the taste of lemons with salt from when I lived in Australia and what it was like never to have drunk alcohol...
Some things you can kinda get back. Some you never will.
This pic was taken on the horribly hot weekend when Paris decided to do something weird with the Champs Elysées again (cover it in grass and sheep and stuff).
I love the initiative but the reality isn't always so good as there are too many people and not enough... grass and sheep. See other posts around this time on my other blogs (especially the iPhone blog) for more details.
Well anyway, here's me taking a self-pic with some sweaty, camera-wielding tourists in the background. Ya had to be there...