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.

Hrrrmph !

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.

Waiting…

… then we chanced upon a late night surprise while changing trains.