Thursday, April 02, 2009
A beautiful French patisserie, Miel, serving the best coffee I've had in this city so far, and a pristine display of beautiful art — I mean, cakes. I decide to have my coffee there, and the new owner gives me a lovely plate on which to eat my baguette, and takes pleasure in making my coffee "in the right cup." I sit at the bar facing the street, and am struck by a woman wearing a smart short red skirt, black boots and jacket, and a black fur hat — it's really a circlet — with a red flower in the side, over long, well-groomed blonde hair. She comes into the cafe, and asks for the smallest bottle of water they have and sits next to me, eating handfuls of cheerios, rattling round loose in a big opaque plastic bag. She strikes up a conversation with the man next to her, who's reading the New York Times, and asks if he's raising children into the world.