evenings in belleville

arrange whatever pieces come your way.
-virginia woolf


paris: city of endless hassles and quotidian magic. evening walk in the parc de belleville terminates in drinks with lindsay at the mer à boire. the vista gapes open over the entire city, every monument a silhouette in the blue and gold mist that hangs low on its shoulders.

small talk begins with a group of friendly strangers, who, out of love for parisian cinema, have crafted an historical tour around the defunct staircase at rue vilan. after some laughs, we agree to tag along. leim has made a book, he guides us through the pictures citing historical locations and cinematic landmarks of note. we traverse the park, break and enter, scurry through alleys, compare rooflines, choose partners, dodge, cheat. someone, on the passage that narrows through brambles, disperses balloons, which we inflate behind his back. when he turns to inform us that this is the place where multicolored balloons were released magically in that film once-- we shower the environs with a rainbow of inflatables, to his shock and utter delight. lights flicker on in the park, the gardeners wave and smile, we tumble back to the mer à boire, where the owner has pulled out his old photographs of the neighborhood, to tell us stories while paris turns blue, then violet, below