On a recent walk in our neighborhood in Paris,
I looked up to see something I don't remember seeing before.
An old cremerie sign from time gone by.
Clearly the shop below is no longer a cremerie.
By the looks of it,
it's been there a very long while
so I just missed it on my many walks down this street.
I stopped in my tracks and my heart nearly skipped a beat
when I looked up and saw these magnificent pieces of historical art.
The colorful scenes are a bit hard to make out...
But I'm just happy to have seen them!
One of the things I love about Paris,
even when you think you've fully seen a particular area,
there is always something new to see.
You just can't see it all.
And FYI (re: the last post),
a magical little puzzle piece actually did float down from the sky
and land right into my hands this weekend.
Something I've been pondering for the last year or more
regarding writing about my ancestors
suddenly took a new shape and perspective
and gave me the idea I've been looking for.
It came in the form of an interview I was listening to over the weekend,
from a decade past and from one man now deceased.
In fact, the interview and the information has changed my perception on a lot of things,
about myself, the people around me and about history.
I know I'll be sharing more about it in a later post.
It's too big not to share.
But for now, it's the last day of spring.
And I'm wishing you magical puzzle pieces
in your life and the coming season.
And, like my puzzle piece and the cremerie,
I'm wishing you that joy of finding something new
I'm wishing you that joy of finding something new
in what you thought was explored territory!
Ah, Bonjour mon amie! dearest, your pictures always enchant me. But all this time, I never put the PUZZLE PIECES TOGETHER....are you LIVING IN PARIS AT THE MOMENT????? Dense me.....teeeheee! Don't you just love the color choices of the French? Everything is so delicious in flavor, including the colors of the buildings!
ReplyDeleteHave a splendid day, ANita
I just noticed that you are reading A Moveable Feast. Oh, I do love that memoir.
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