les néons du tabac du départ
ce qui m’a attiré c’est le coté néon, un peu américain: NY dans mon esprit mais alors traité à fond branchouillard!
Archive for January, 2006
Column Dancer
Is it a bird..?
Is it a plane..?
No! It’s just a crazy tourist having fun on one of the wacky “Colonnes de Buren” in the jardin du Palais Royal.
I’d forgotten this photo but I’m rather fond of it, as it was completely spontaneous and un-posed – the girl was actually posing for her mum or someone and I just slipped in there quietly…
© Sab Will / Paris Set Me Free 2006
http://www.parissetmefree.com
Section Updated: Walking The Streets
http://www.parissetmefree.com/pictures/streets/6
eiffeltower
ok ok if i have nothing more to say that showing the eiffel tower, then there is no need to blog. but well i was driving my car, it was late and i though it was great!
Un autre arc de triomphe…
Comme parisien je connais surtout celui de la place de l’etoile et celà d’arc est planqué dans le 9ème (comme son frère saint martin).
A visiter aussi sur le site de insecula.
Se déplacer à Paris
… n’est pas toujours facile. En tout cas la mairie de Paris nous demande notre avis.
C’est sur http://www.debatdeplacements.paris.fr/ que cela se passe.
The Poopaway Tree
[Petit mot pour mes amis francais: Un de mes grands regrets, c’est que je ne peux pas ecrire suffisamment bien en francais pour vous faire partager toute la richesse de mes conneries royales, comme je fais subir mes amis anglophones… triste triste… :-( ]
What you see above, taken during the “Paris Shutterbugs” last Sunday jaunt on our way from Passage Brady, to Passage Jouffroy, is not in fact emissaries of the Paris town hall paying hommage to our friends the trees, far from it judging by what they do to the poor things.
No, it is in fact the ancient ritual dating back to time immemorial, fondly called “The Purging of the Poo”…
These grills around the city’s numerous foliaged friends in fact serve three functions.
Firstly, they allow the green and brown ones to have a bit of earth around them which isn’t actually smothered by the hard grey stuff, which must do them some good, I suppose.
Secondly, they offer inattentive rollerbladers, stilletto-staggerers and simple pietons alike the opportunity to shudder, sink or simply skid respectively to a most humiliating rendez-vous with the unforgiving reality known as the pavement (or ‘sidewalk’ for our North American friends who appreciate the subtle aide-mémoire permitting them to remember to walk on the side of the road, and not right down the middle of it where those fast noisy things go). Clever, innit?
And thirdly, of course, it’s the ideal Poopy Pooch Palace! Doggies in all shapes and states of sexual proclivity are furtively led to these handy slip-through canine conveniences where the offending ejections are quickly swallowed up and the mutt and his master go on their way, tails held high and anuses retracted, without a care in the world.
Unfortunately, it falls to our stoic chaps in green here to scrape up the remains from time to time so that the long suffering provider of shade and solace in this cruel city can suck up a vaguely unpolluted intake of earth for once.
As we can see in this pic, however, there are times when our furry friends just don’t make it in time… it happens to the best of us.
Sab :@)
le sous sol du bhv
un lieu mythique pour tout parisien: le sous sol du BHV Hotel de ville. Sur cette video j’ai filmé la partie proche de la sortie vers le Métro Hotel de ville. Que du bonheur!
La pyramide
Dimanche matin j’ai été faire un petit jogging. Je me suis décidé pour un tour “touristique” (Montparnasse-rue de Rennes- Saint Germain-Le Louvre-Académie Francaise-Montparnasse). J’en ai profité pour prendre quelques photos jusqu’à ce que les piles de mon appareil rendent l’âme! (j’aurais dû vérifier!).
Metros Are Funny Places…
You can people watch to your heart’s content. You can be ‘the nutter’.
You can see the classiest, clad in furs and fawnings, who can’t quite afford to take a taxi…
You can see the crummiest, grimiest, stinkiest, who can’t quite afford to sleep indoors…
It’s a microcosm of life, but there are so many reflections… real and imagined. You can see yourself in others, and you can see yourself, literally, in all those echoes of your life winking back at you through the blackened windows…
Strangely impersonal place, other people are strangers, card-board cut-outs who don’t really exist, because they don’t know us, and in front of whom we can apply masks, put on make-up, so that real people will think we look beautiful.
Phone calls on the metro connect us to the real world. The world that we know. Underground is not real. It’s a passage between worlds. You don’t have to impress, because the people you meet there are illusions.
They are not listening. They belong to other worlds. Their worlds outside of these tunnels. Thinking their thoughts, dreaming their dreams. Assailed by incessant adverts like us all, yes, but oblivious. Hoping for tomorrow, or resigned. Who knows?
