paris i

Paris has a big tower, arch and museum. Who cares. We were there for the music. THE music festival that packs the streets, gill to gill with the sweating populous. every corner was claimed by a different act.

80's cover band. 7 nation army. old timey jazz. a pixies song. heavy metal. smooth jazz. a horn and a banjo a drum. Lots of drums all being played by people and other people.

and there were wines in my pocket. little plastic bottles filled with red red wine .175 liters each to be exact. front front back back pocket filled.

on the stairs near the church before Descartes was the marching band. not marching but sitting then standing on the steps to somewhere or nowhere, but now i remember them.

before, in the too high nave of the notre dame, singing. the sun was still out so late at night and made the round window shine like the very eye of God.

the next church on the path was fronted by a tent and leaping horn playing wizards of french teenage funk.

later, a man sold us beers out of his backpack en route to the marching band dance off. tuba and odd shaped horns swaying in the early AM. We could all listen. There was no pain.

we were then led to our market neighbourhood, the music shutting down, closing up shop like the fruit stand we passed. One more crape for the road. or a pommes frites filled waffle cone off falafal doner kabab gyro love.