Le Cafe Parisienne

Words and Images

It’s time I start displaying my plethora of Paris cafe photographs. And at the same time, wonder, why, I, who could never fathom the idea of the ‘New York cafe’, who can’t write from anywhere but home, who loathed the idea of spending five dollars on a coffee outside, who has been inside a Starbucks only four times in her life and only one of those of my own volition, who would never be caught dead in a cafe in Brooklyn (anywhere in Brooklyn), end up spending two hours and three espressos down at the cafe across the street.

The idea itself would have horrified me few years ago. Then again so would have the idea of taking self portraits with no clothes on.

Nothing is the same as it was.

Except for the Paris cafe.

Note: Don’t forget to buy a copy of Not Quite A Disaster After All and don’t say anything if you didn’t Iike it.

Oh dear, now the silence is going to kill me.

(At times like, this only the French know what to say— c’est la vie).