I’m sharing my love for Algarve drop by drop. I can’t believe it’s been a month since I came back from Portugal and my Parisian life has already gifted me with new turns. I still sigh when I remember these streets, though, their sun bathed, time-worn stones and… the loveliest colourful doors! The best part of my collection is from a nearby town, but let’s start at the beginning, in this town where airplanes keep flying low over your head, fish joyously jump out of the water, with their bellies towards the sky (yes, they do), and where you definitely don’t get away from French … I mean, you know I love you, mon vieux peuple, but do you have to be so omni-present on my vacation? Well I guess I don’t mind as much as I whine about it.
Nothing like Normandy, to escape Paris for a day. This little town doesn’t disappoint with its charm, perfect for a crêpe or a gelato if sea food is not your thing. I will always choose Etretat for the cliffs, though, these here don’t have enough of a display to appreciate them fully. Still, sea air always does. Plus, I captured a few lovely doors.
Maybe, what I miss most about summer is not just street walks whose existence is barely touched in the cold, but sitting down on a bench or a sidewalk and observe or read, for as long as you like, warm air embracing you and sun rays caressing you through the branches. Melting into your own world in the middle of the city’s sea of people. Reading outside is somehow not the same as in that enclosing space of your own room, although I’m not sure why I prefer parks to my sofa. Maybe, appreciating the inner and the outer world is inter-connected.
No matter the season though, I realized I have a growing affinity for anonymous city readers, which are nowadays mostly my fellow metro passengers. That summer day, it was this girl meters away from me, but somehow close in her attentive leaning posture. I was wondering what she was reading, while I was sadly finishing Anaïs Nin’s early diary… Oh that fever of living.
For WPC: A Face in the Crowd.
Don’t get me wrong. Concerts and festivals are like breathing, or like a drug to me – if I don’t get a regular fix, I might as well be dead. Still, I almost never take photos, I’ve never really understood why. Being too crazily excited in the moment and safely guarding it later in my mind was the usual way. This weekend was different, though. Maybe I needed it too much: that proof I still have so much life in me, so much to live still, independently of anyone. Maybe it was all the hits I heard live. Wasting My Young Years, The Seed, Another Love, Summertime Sadness, Papillon, Wonderwall, Where Is My Mind, Californication … Overdose in the best sense. Their quality might be below average, but for me the sentimental value counts more than that 😉 Anyway, here it is to the first best weekend of the year (the season is just getting started).
Lollapalooza Paris. 22.-23.7.
Lana del Rey
Worst photo, best band. RHCP
It was the perfect day. Doing a spontaneous train trip with my best friend to Normandy, exploring the cheese markets and flirting with the vendors, then just hanging out on the ridiculously wide sunny beach, after refreshing our toes in the Atlantic. Ice cream was there, and this colourful summer essentials that made me wonder what kind of collage view they form from the above. No doubt how we ended it – with cocktails!