A brand new day is caressing the absent minded roof tops of Paris.
An old gentleman comes out on his balcony, wearing a dressing gown.
The traffic noise comes up from Boulevard Saint-Martin
like a sound of roaring waves of an urban sea.
Soon Sergey and I will walk to la Gare de l’Est (one of Parisian railway stations).
I’m always glad when my destination is within walking distance.
I don’t like being swallowed by Paris belly,
its underground tiring corridors full of steps.
There is in Paris a devastating beauty and,
at the same time, a cruel indifference.
I’m happy to leave, maybe because I know I can come back…