The thing about blogging in Paris is that then you are blogging in Paris instead of, I dunno, doing anything else out and about in Paris. Inside: hot, with bespectacled thirteen-year-old boys playing games on linked computers and yelling, at various intervals, “À la style Matrix!” and “Merde!!” and “Je meurs dans le Matrix!” and, I swear this is true, “Ai-yi-yi-yi-yi-caramba!!” Outside: blue skies and sunny sun and Berthillon ice creams and sorbets everyday—blackberry today, pear yesterday, Gianduja chocolate with orange peel the day before; a succulent sandwich grec-frites-salade in the back of some greasy hole-in-the-wall in the Bastille; a crêpe Nutella-banane, before a fat slice of hot banana covered in Nutella fell on my nice blue dress; afternoon tea at Fauchon as if we are Japanese ladies; a panino jambon-fromage-tomate with the birds in a shady spot at the Jardin de Luxembourg; the unexpected treat of a petit macaron cassis-violette from Ladurée, a sweet, cool round of heaven on a hot day; so many cafés crèmes at so many cafés.

Also outside is: hanging out in the Marais looking at the cute boys and their cute sneakers; shopping for groceries at Monoprix like I live here; being hit on by French boys while buying sweet red cherries at the market. All good things. Abrupt, sorry, have to go, out of internet café money.