The city is summer, the city is empty – there are no students
at the bus stop, no youth. School is out, they sleep.
There is a young boy heading to work with his father, the
father in his black suit the boy in summer shorts and t-shirt. The man is
striding, work upmost in his mind, the lad scurries trying to keep up - he is
carrying a plastic bag. In the plastic bag there is a sailboat, he hopes to
take it to the park at lunchtime.
A carousel has settled in the space between Rue Forchet and
Avenue Grand Palais, it sits in front of the computer supermarket – neither are
open yet.
The door to the bakers is open, sunlight reaches inside
meeting the warmth of Jacqueline who serves the coffee and puts a croissant in
a bag if you ask for one. She adds a piece of chocolate even if you didn’t.
The postman is wearing shorts.
The river is still. No winter storm troubles her gentle way
towards the sea. The reflection of the bridge flows with her.
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