The Red and the Black

Flowers from our friend Guenter, who left a couple of days ago, and a ceramic panther from our landlord's father (he moved a retirement home last year, and our apartment inherited. My pretentious title is taken from the novel of the same name by Stendahl. I had been eying the panther for some time as a possible blip, and when this combination presented itself, I pounced :)

This evening supper with my cousins Walter and Joan, after drinks at the Café Danton on Boulevard St. Germain where I met his father by chance in the summer of 1959; neither of us knew that the other was in Paris; I arrived to have my usual breakfast of croissants one morning, and he was already sitting at the same table. (I'll mark the spot on the map :)

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