Flowers at a marketplace in Paris
Just had to re-follow a bunch of people I thought I was following…what’s going on tumblr?
Street stalls in Paris by the Seine. Some chocked with old books, signed old postcards that can be 50 years old, beautiful anatomical drawinsg of flowers or fruits or vegetables; their latin names inscribed beautifully in cursive. Little versions of their road signs shiny and heavy hanging, although I didn’t buy any of those things. The books were in french; I can’t read french. The drawings were beautiful but I couldn’t think of anywhere in my home where I could place it where people would look; in the home I was staying in in Paris, there was a anatomical drawing of flowers in the toilet but it belonged there beneath the little creaky window where sunlight streamed in, beside the potted plants. I didn’t buy the road signs either. If I were to bring them home they would just look incredibly forlorn and out of place. Sometimes the best thing you can do is to let a thing be left behind where it is most beautiful, not take it away to a place where it doesn’t belong just so you can possess it as a signifier of memory.