Looking at the Lourve

Walking lthrough the portals of the Lourve you enter a courtyard built for kings – stone figures of the giants of history look down upon the square, the walls and pillars of the Lourve their pedestal. The pyramid rests in the center. It is fantastic. Light plays through the glass, conjuring forms that tickle the imagination. The morning breeze emphasizes the amount of open space that the Lourve contains: it is vastness that is ever beyond your field of vision. Ah!!!! Delightful. Knowledge is for everything, ripe for taking, what it should be. A squad of French soldiers walk by – never has a beret been so stylishly worn.

Next is the bridge where all the lovers lock their promises and throw their keys into the River Seine. Locks of every size and shape, different inscriptions and scribbles. Pledges in metal form. It is hauntingly, melancholically beautiful. How many of these promises are kept? Yet those who keep the keys in their heart… I salute you. The walls of the bridge shimmer with a kaleidoscope of colour. Love is a many-splendoured thing. We sit on the bench in silence – by unspoken consensus none of us say anything, but simply content to sit there and enjoy being at such a place. A simple joy of being alive on a warm sunny windy day.

Lunch is a gigantic pizza, with mozzarella and emmental cheese, diced bacon, sour cream, fresh onions, and an egg in the middle. I struggle to finish it… It is super thick and jelat. Next I fight a snail who refuses to be opened. My superior willpower and application of physics trumps his natural protection and the score is zach 1, snail 0! Lesson learnt: enough raw force applied will trump even the stoutest defense. Enough tackles and scratches and even the most intractable metapod will KO… Same principle applied.


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