Onion tart

France, Onion Tart, Pencil Drawing of an Onion Tart, Provence


Does eating something French cuisine qualify as a mini-tour for the heart? I’m hoping, because lunch reminded me of a dozen or so trips; all with special memories.

Rich in texture, an onion tart reminds me not of Provence (name of restaurant – http://brasserieprovence.com), but of small conversations with people in “my” neighborhood, friends made and forgotten and smells. Oh, the aromas. If one could live by scent alone, France replenishes the heart of your nose and emotions for memory.

Each intertwine.

Missed reservation

Badass Artist, Barry Comer Artist, Cafe Sketches, cafe sketching, Chairs, Dr. Ph. Martin's Radiant Concentrated Watercolor, France, Il Cinq Heures, Jacques Dutronc, Lonely, Love, Paris, Paris Cafes, Reservation, Rue Saint Germain, Spring blooms

il cing heure

If you have ever been to Paris, you know how ubiquitous café chairs, tables and people dining are. It is part of a daily routine and one I could easily adopt here. Somehow, the noises from the street and pollution never reach my table and cup of coffee.

It is a magic trick only the French know.

All day, I wondered how my favorite cafés and streets felt. The more I thought, the more angry I became. It took all morning to find peace in my heart and find a realization within. Only I can change my reality and how I felt. Anger does nothing but breed more anger.

I have chosen to feel only hope and love for my friends who live in and around the city. After all, a city is nothing without inhabitants. When I think of Paris, I think of them, their voices and laughter.

There is a song I love by Jacques Dutronc. It is called Il eat cinq heures, Paris s’eveille. It is Paris. Be safe Aline, André, your parents and sisters, Merlin and your parents, all my friends in La Fontenay sous Bois and Paris.