I escaped a few days over the week-end to my home town Paris. I love this city and never spend long enough to my liking. The minute we get off the TGV everything turns into a carefully timed operation: so many places to be so many people to visit! Everything gets squeezed in, the long awaited noodle dish in my favorite Thai in Belleville, aperitifs and cafes left right and center, shopping, culture (well that did not really happen although there was a dancing show going on at some stage in Le Louvre and I did have the luxury to browse books for nearly 1 hour in Virgin)…it has to fit all in!!!
I came back Sunday, exhausted but bathing in a happy glow, my head full of these little glimpses of people I love to be with, tastes I can never forget and thrills that make life so precious.
I have a special crush for this film.
I am 4 years old standing on the balcony of my parents flat in Belleville (Paris). Admiring my gigantic red balloon that my father gave me. ” attention qu’il ne s’envole pas…” were his words but it was too late, the balloon had gone. I remember the building opposite still under construction where it disappeared into, I was sobbing.
Watching this film brought it back to me and ironically it was filmed near Belleville…
The film director Albert Lamorisse, was also a photographer which explains why the graphics on this film are just timeless.
In awe with the photographer, as a teenager I bought my first black and white film and started taking pictures of Paris…they were rubbish! Not long ago on the french news I saw the couple on the famous “Baiser De L’ Hotel De Ville”. Obviously looking old but still very together and happy! Apparently they were totally unaware of the picture being taken!
Find out more about him here
Today I had a strange experience while walking home. I walked over the grid of a car park and was hit by a familiar smell. It was not an unpleasant smell, a mix of rubber, ventilation and old sweaty walls. That smell that I am sure goes unoticed by everybody else sent me straight back to my childhood.
Suddenly I was not this 30 something woman hurrying home with a bag of shopping on one side and a list of “to do” things on the other hand.
I was a 7 year old with gruby hands, frazzled hair and gaping smile. I was entering the bike shed belonging to our flat…it was dark and musty but exciting always as it meant we were heading to the Buttes Chaumont with my mum and brother.
It meant carefree, casual happiness…
Crossing the zebra I thought about that child I once was and wanted to start hopping…