Picnic in the Marais
Picnic day at Place des Vosges, the oldest square in Paris. Built in 1612, which means it has been waiting four hundred years for me to sit on its grass. The humans unrolled a blanket. I unrolled my opinion of the blanket.
Menu: bread, cheese, a bottle of something. My share: nothing. I sat with perfect posture for forty minutes, which in Paris is called “a performance”. Three tourists took photos. One asked my name. I did not give it. Mystery is part of the brand.
At sunset I opened my mobile office on the grass. Every door unzipped, very open-plan. Strangers walked past and said “oh, un chat !”. Yes. Correct. Thank you. Next.
Final score: one sunset, zero cheese, many compliments. The compliments were fine. I would have traded all of them for one cube of comté.