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  • I remember Paris in winter, sitting looking out at the snow from an inside-outside table, sipping hot petit creme, where the waitress remembered me, the second morning, and had my creme and croissant on the way as I sat down in the bright short winter.

    I remember Paris in summer, when I sailed at 10 p.m. sunset on the Seine in a bateau and life seemed all water and tunnel, and ancient and resistant.

    I remember walking, as I do, off the track and passing by schools where modest plaques told of the deportations past of children, during the Nazi times and I felt very very Jewish, as a Jew in Paris; I remember that. I did not have to perform my faith, it was just the feeling of the place.

    I remember going late for Indian food, and mid-afternoon to Cafe Flore and the Taschen bookstore on Rue Buci and the feeling of books and coffee and walking and walls and stone, in Paris I felt my generations past Euro-roots.

    I remember the restaurant where we sat with our feet in sand, where they served seafood and coconut stuff and sauce, from the Seychelles, and I remember the chairs, the chairs at night and the chairs in the morning, enchained, and set free and always there.

    We will, in fact, always have Paris.

    I will always have my markings from Paris, and in another time, in another space, I will, with joy, be there.

    (Photo by Susan, January 14, 2015, of some items from Paris)
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