Trivial Pursuit of Truth
thar be dragons
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A Gladiator Finds His Arena
The ball soared over the towering fence and landed right in front of me as I walked down a pedestrian only cobblestone street in Abbesses. It was the size of a football (soccer, if you're basic) but lighter, and made from a spongy blue foam. And now it
Makes The Heart Go Wander
I was the first person at my coffee shop one morning this week and there I found a lovely young French man with a pencil moustache who looked lost and alone, as if he had broken into the place and then decided on a whim to try and run it.
Crumbs at the Slophouse
There was a man at the ice creamery the other day and I cannot stop thinking about him. He looked about 50. No family in tow, indeed no other travelling friends or acquaintances in sight. From his person there were wires, running out of his ears and a battery pack
Blessé this Messé
I was going to have some fun with the newsletter this week until the French authorities – who, for official purposes, I love and adore – sprung the steel trap of bureaucracy on my bliss and visited upon it a great injury. So the fun has been cancelled. Instead, today, we are