Paris has history bursting from every nook and cranny as you might imagine. In Montmartre, we wandered down a side street and came upon this most remarkable sculpture.
Before leaving home, I’d found and printed off a series of Internet pages of little “hidden places in Paris” and this was one of them. But I hadn’t remembered it was on Montmartre until we came upon it.
A portrait of a well-known writer, Marcel Ayme, the sculpture is mounted on the wall to represent one of Ayme’s famous characters from the story, “Passer through Walls” which he wrote in 1943. The story was turned into a musical and even ran for a time on Broadway – and named “Amour.”
That’s all there was to it – the piece mounted on a stone wall – a little square with a couple of benches – a tree beyond. The writer lived nearby until his death in 1967 and perhaps the little square was a favorite spot to sit and watch as people passed by – or a way station to rest before climbing the hill to the town square.
And here are the gargoyles (we love the gargoyles) looking down on humans from their lofty perch on Notre Dame Cathedral. “Looka ‘dat,” says one, “didja eva’ see such a motly lot?” (Gargoyles speak Middle-English English, not French.) “Wha’da’ya tink they do??”
Anytime I see a mesa like this, a table-top from which a rider can watch, I imagine a Native American warrior, sitting at the edge on a paint pony, watching. I read way too many Zane Gray novels as a kid. But then, I grew up in Indian country on the high Kansas plains and their spirits roamed the hills. This particular shot is from the Painted Desert in Arizona. The place stunningly beautiful. Every square inch of it.
Here’s two of my favorite windows in Paris. Now, choosing a favorite window in Paris is a little like choosing your favorite flavor of chocolate: fudge? milk? hot fudge syrup over ice cream? nuts? How about caramel with fudge and nuts? That’s what Paris windows are like. Too many choices, too many flavors and colors.
The two windows from Paris I decided to show were the ones I spent the most time looking at or out of:
Here’s a shot of our hotel room and while you can’t see the window exactly, you can see the light. This is where I sat and wrote each day under the beams that held up the ceiling when Sartre lived here. Maybe he looked out this same window.
The Light of Reason
The second window that caught my fancy was one of the many and several images of St. Denis, patron saint of Paris, who, legend says, picked up his head after it was cut off and walked away from his killer still preaching. The ruff above his mitre (hat) is the ruff that would have framed his neck, had he a neck. Being a preacher myself, the whole idea amused me. Sometimes, perhaps, there are those who may think that the only way to shut me up would be to cut off my head (or take away my laptop!).
This has to be my favorite photo from our summer road trip to California. Our niece said her cat didn’t really like people, might hide, but when the morning came, I found said cat snuggled up with my husband. He’s a warm spot to curl against.