My new teaching job is over on the rive Gauche, in the 6th arrondissement. I usually go to work by metro and then walk home part of the way before getting on a Vélib, the Parisian 'Boris Bike', to cycle home. It helps me unwind and it gives me an excuse to walk across the river so I can enjoy long majestic views of Paris...like so.
Last week I passed by St Germain des Prés and was admiring the blossom of a tree on the other side of the road. As I looked more closely I saw that 'things' were hanging from the tree.
How strange, if I didn't know any better I'd say those things hanging from the tree were books. I crossed the road to get a closer look. Yes. Books!
I zoomed in.
It was only when I got home that I was able to establish the title of the book, 'On n'est jamais mieux que chez les autres.'* (home away from home) by Bakir Zieg. A novel that recounts the funny, joyful and crazy adventures of a young Tunisian man who comes to live in Paris having fled from his home country. The author Bakir Zieg can apparently often be found selling his poems à la sauvette, on the pavements of Saint-Germain-des-Prés, which leads me to think that it was probably Zieg who put those books up in that tree.
On a sunny day they looked lovely in that tree.
* I haven't read this book...yet.
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