three weeks. three weeks?
Jun. 2nd, 2010 06:28 pmSo let me tell you a little story.
My Parisian district is a very nice one. We’re at the foot of Montmartre and about twenty minutes’ walk from the Louvre, and we’ve got the quaintest little church and long, slanting merchant streets with markets in the morning. There’re tons of schools and flowershops and bakeries and bars, and if you get a little away from the biggest streets you can find narrow, winding alleys going up and down and up again, paved over and a lot more silent, so you can sit on a bench for a few minutes and relax all you care. And if you go up North, and climb up a few (dozen) flights of stairs, there’s Montmartre, with its sunlit squares and little houses and painters and little pubs and theatres and hundreds of restaurants, and long strips of lawn and the Sacré-Coeur with the sun on its domes.
It’s really quite like a miniature town in the middle of Paris.
And it’s got its own traditions, too. When it starts getting really warm, generally in May or June, there’s a band that treks around the district, playing the trumpet and the guitar and the saxo. There’re here every year. Everybody knows them and their tunes. When they come around, when you can hear their music all the way from the street, you just know the beautiful days are here to stay.
When I came home from class yesterday they were coming up the main street. Hello, summer.
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