We are packed like sardines in an American aircraft miles above the earth. My love and I are so brilliant that we managed to actually MISS our flight. Luckily our arrival is only delayed by an hour on our replacement flight.

Yesterday we scoured the flea market on the outskirts of Paris. I had fun haggling for lower prices on the Indian bracelet I bought with the last of my money. The items for sale get older, grungier, dustier and more interesting, the further out you venture. My love eyed the antique coins. I was interested in the antique mannequins, clothes and jewelry. One interesting object I found was a ring with a plastic flower, in the center of which was a blinking dolls eye.

Paris, I will miss, again. The city has this infectious way of growing on you the longer you stay. Last night we trekked up to Sacre Courre one last time. We got chocolate crepes to go and used up the rest of the photographs. The church atop the hill looks magnificently unreal after dark, and the steps leading to it are hopelessly littered with broken bottles and the last of the musicians and bohemians who refused to go home.

We took our last stroll down the main road separating our hotel from the mountain, down to Moulin Rouge for a photo shoot.

departure - arrival