We wander out into Paris....
We stumble upon the Cimetiere de Montmartre, full of grand tombs holding the remains of eminent Parisians. The rich, the famous, artists, poets, writers and eminent public figures dating back hundreds of years. Leafy cobbled stoned walkways protecting the dead.
Every other street corner is bestowed with a cafe straight out of some bygone era. The imagination races with thoughts of the past, when vibrant conversations over coffee and absinthe were held, and manifestoes were the beginning of new ways of seeing.
Above the surface, gold encrusted statues on the Pont Alexandre....
the draughtsman's equally beautiful considerations.
Such is Paris.
Some live the dream, a studio in Montmartre.
The view from our little apartment in the
Hotel Peletier Haussmann Opera.
The central void, not spectacular, but a window into the lives of those who live here.
"This morning is a slower start. The bedroom window left open to collect cool night air. The first noise of the morning from the void is an echoey 'click click'. From below a phlegmy cough and the old man lights up in the half dark. The smell of cigarette smoke smartly finds our window and I get out of bed to close it.
The light in the void is still dark at 7.00 am. The small breakfast area in the hotel has been readying itself below our room for maybe half an hour. The sliding of tables on tiles, the occasional voice and the smell of baguettes being warmed, wafts into our room, and prepares us for another day."
The hotel stands minutes from the heart of Paris, and although small, it is clean, welcoming and charming. It is the perfect location from which to set out each day.