An open window, not mine.
Crossing the Seine.
It wouldn’t be Paris if not for the sharply-angled buildings, no ?
Spotted some concrete sunbathers on our way to meet F.
More of the Seine.
A vegetable plot too ?
A little break in the shade.
The boys told me there used to be little boats on the water.
It was perfect weather for reading under the sun, and apparently a stroll too for a little feathered someone.
I think I will take industrial-sized bottles of Nutella anyday over mayonaise.
We met a friend on our way to the péniche.
Fret not, he was not drinking Rosé.
The little rabbit in many a metropolitan recollection of the French childhood.
Wooden panels, a gramophone and smartly-suited waiters… what’s more, it opens till late.
… then we chanced upon a late night surprise while changing trains.