I have just written something about Paris that Elisa enjoyed very much; but i'm not going to translate it. We are having a cappuchino in a small café at the rue Gregorie de Tours, very close to St. Germain, after wondering the whole morning around the Toulleries and the narrow streets and libraries close to the Pompidou Centre, checking photography books -Doisneau mainly, though we didn't get any.
Last week we were lost in French Bretange, looking for the Barbarian roots of that half of my blood, walking the paths of the Broceilande wood, or warming up close to the fires of Breton bars, filled with ancient Celtic magic and music.
We will be heading east pretty soon, maybe to find the fountains of the other half of my blood; that is the Gipsy and the Arab. But we'll talk about that later.