au revoir

I leave Paris tomorrow. Finished with a jam-packed day, wherein I paid respects to the tomb of Oscar Wilde (on which is written some lines from The Ballad of Reading Gaol: "For his mourners will be outcast men, and outcasts always mourn," which stuck in my head for several hours after) and wandered around Montmartre. I ate farfalle with Gorgonzola in a small Italian place on a side street, where a kind resident dog noticed my keen lack of Bella and let me pat him while I ate.

Because a blog should have photos:

And more:

And one more, because it's so darling:

(Credit for the above photo goes to W, who's giving fine Bella-care. The others are mine.)

Paris photos will be uploaded when I get home. I just got back from dinner at my hotel, Mama Shelter, which is designed by Philippe Starck and so hip that the signs for the washrooms are written on the chalkboard ceiling above the glowing doors, thus causing me to miss them altogether and cheerfully use the men's washroom (there was even a man at the urinal) assuming it was some European unisex thing. I did laugh afterward.

it's important to have priorities

Seen today on the Paris metro, posted atop the courtesy seats (italics mine):

"These places are reserved, in order of priority, for:

• disabled war veterans
  
• the industrially disabled, the blind, people with disabilities
  
• pregnant women and people accompanying children under 4
  
• people aged 75 and over"

It suggests some fascinating disputes. Just being old doesn't get you far, especially if someone comes along with a cranky 3-year-old. A blind pregnant woman could easily be displaced by someone who has lost a limb in a horrible factory accident, but only if there's no pesky veterans nearby...

um...okay...here it is

I guess I started a blog. 

I was going to explain the title, but I think I'll be mysterious for a bit. Go ahead and guess. Hint: it's about the pitfalls of communication. And from one of my favourite books.