A feeling of out of time, confused memories of old French movies of the 50’s,
the tired shores of the only canal of Paris, with its dusty charm of 19th century….
I walk over the side of St. Martin canal. It’s stormy, the air is sultry.
The lock gates get open to let a big boat go through.
The swing bridge does its job too.
From the iron footbridges someone takes photos, someone waves…