a field trip to belleville

"qu'est-ce que vous faites?" a scruffy clochard asks us, the modified triplets of belleville, from his colourful stoop on rue st. maur.

"la recherche!" I have one of those silly skips in my step; it is sunny.

"mais pour quoi?"

"pour la vie!" alex has that spring too, & he spreads his arms to show how wide life is right now.

the almonds are closed, the almonds are furry, & the greengrocer at the african speciality market lets me peel one; you eat the furry part - it's good for the heart. next to his stall, the pig is balanced, whole, on the butcher's guillotine. the fluttering awning looks like a butterfly in the sunlight, & a mouthy woman takes her bananas to go. the white cat sits in the artist's atelier window, hardly distinguishable from the white clay sculptures but for the black spot around his left eye.

we sat in the mellifluous afternoon in place saint marthe as the waiter, too young to be chain-smoking the way he is, brings our cafés allongées in jack daniels shot glasses on mismatched paisley trays. a little boy flies his remote controlled helicopter around my feet. it is brand new - the box sits on the chair with his parents.

four days later, we take jumping pictures & pose outside the colourful shopfronts.