Jacques Prevert's beautiful song
'Les Feuilles Mortes' known to most as 'Autumn Leaves', takes on a different sentiment when you walk where he may have walked on a fall day in Paris composing. There is a longing here and an unknown depth that the mood searches for. Difficult to describe. Perhaps it is the poem unwritten or the painting waiting to be painted. Simply put I feel very alive in Paris and deeply in love....it is a romantic city, full of inquiry and sage (often false) advise about art, love, music, life's concepts, politics, society...the whole gamut. I am in love with the possibilities of heart and mind. How can I not feel alive when I am accosted at every corner by art and architecture.
Fighting the wee fatigue and unable to read this small print so I am off to the museum for further grander exploration. Morning at Les Arts Decortifs, then lunch in a surprise cafe, then to meet Flor at the Beaubourg to see another show, follwed by work at the gallery at 17h / 5 p.m.
A la prochaine...
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