Two Fragments of France, Summer 2023

 

-The delight I take in closing the shutters at night, always spending a few moments out on the darkened patio, the light now shut in by ancient painted wood. So many stars here. Their number is rivaled by the blinking lights of planes, of satellites, always in a hurry. Why such a rush, when surrounded by such beauty?

 

-Even in France I long for France.  Barely engaged with the outside world, didn't even dine out once.  I wasn't really in the mood for moneyed chic Riviera France.  I wanted quieter meals in the villages and towns up in the country.  But I knew from the number of ambulating tourists that I'd had to dodge in the narrow lanes of Ramatuelle that it wasn't the right year for it. Instead I passed long mornings out on the terrace and read, until the heat bullied me indoors.  My reading led me to Paris, and its writers and painters of the 1920s.  And introduced me to the familial bohemian scene at the Vila America, an hour's drive from here in Antibes. 

 

On the turntable: Belle and Sebastian, "A Bit of Previous"