|View From A Cafe|
Paris smelled of piss and baguettes. Architecturally beautiful, with parks and fountains. The people were cosmopolitan cold... bordering on rude. In other words, It's just like home, only sometimes it smells like baguettes.
The week in Paris had us staying in the Latin Quarter, just up the street from the open air market on rue Mouffetard. The market was un-fucking-believable. All of the classic French stalls were represented; Bakeries/Patisseries, cheesemongers and charcuteries:
|It's like a sea urchin made out of fat coated duck legs.|
|The Future Is Now. And It's Very. Very. Cold.|