Tuesday, September 13, 2016

swapping files and such.

 Another pre-dinner walk after another calm day. It was hot here, today, around 90-degrees, but my room benefits from a cross-breeze and I stay cool (yeah).

Marnay-Sur-Seine is small but has its share of alleyways and nooks and crannies, and the river is always close-by. Most houses are well-tended, though apart from the high schoolers looking to jump into the river in the late afternoon, most life seems to take place inside. Being here during a festival might give the chance to see the village put itself on display. Or maybe an artist exhibition.
All these old structures, full of the texture of stone, they look like they are part of the earth, just shaped into houses (which is, after all, what they are!). But so different from modern habitats.
Windows and doors, entrances, exits, looking out, looking in.
The stonework benefits from the presence of the color splashes of flowers - a harmonious contrast.
To the Seine. Always flowing, with a strong current. Home to the pair of swans that glide up and down this little stretch.

Maybe, it being September, this dinghy has seen most of its action for the year already. One feels the recent echoes of its water expeditions.
Gravel roads like this everywhere, leading to fields planted in rows with poplar, a source of income for the village. This road leads away from the "beach", towards the east.
Looks like fall already visited this row of trees.
Stone, brick, metal, and wood, strong personalities, each.
One of two village wells I have seen so far. Both boarded up, one would like to believe having nothing to do with the nuclear power plant next door.

They're pretty safe unless they spring a leak or blow up, or so I hear (nuclear power plants, that is).

More paint splashes, visual counterpoint to earthy stone.
Rooftop patriotism. America is not the only place where national pride emanates from private dwellings.
Neighborhood cat, ready to skitter off if I get any closer.
Solid statement: "I am a green, wooden door on a grey, stone wall".
What might have been a wealthy villager's home in past centuries. Inner courtyard. This village, with its little mairie and church, feels like it must have been a comfortably intimate size at some point in its long-ago. Everyone knew what everyone was up to.


Roses, violently red.
Nice design for a bench and table on the side of the road.
Another french feline, this one even more scraggly than the last, Reluctantly prepared to spring into action if I stuck around a little longer.

The botanical garden, painted up by visiting South American artists.

The village school ("ECOLE"). Wonder if it still operates, but don't think so. Another use?
More stone/metal/brick (+glass) cooperation, black metal line against pastel.
Strips of texture.
Some ancient rock. Purpose? Why are you on the side of the road?
The church next door. Waiting for a classical guitar recital.


The bells ring all day and up until 10pm. Hunchback of Notre Dame no more, just an electric timer. But you still imagine someone's in there, swinging on the ropes.
Wood trapped.
Long-haired tree.
Former window.
The church again, from the Grande rue.
Back at Camac.
My (t)rusty bicycle here. The tape will be gone when I leave, just as it has before, but for the present, this is my range rover to have adventures with.
Walls as thick as an elephant, big, bad wolf-proof.
Watercraft in front of Camac.

Today was partially spent moving 1's and 0's around on hard drives, then some character coloring (a little more after this post). Thursday, going to the nearby town of Provins, a UNESCO-approved village with a dusty museum, a tower, and hopefully a nice caf√© from where one can sketch passersby with a nice glass of   fizz water.


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