Here’s where you tell me an upside down heart has some horrible, inappropriate meaning, and I’ll be forced into a state of embarrassment for the rest of the day.
On the other hand, maybe you have no clue, like me, and we’ll imagine it’s something wonderful together.
Heart-shaped wear and tear on the side of a building.
When you decontextualize these shots of Paris building facades, they become a form of abstract art.
Who’s the artist? Nature? Man? Or is it an unintentional collaboration of the elements and human encounter?
I’ve seen this chair on Rue des Ecouffes since 2009. It’s an odd choice for an outdoor chair, no?
Rue des Ecouffes intersects with Rue des Rosiers right near L’As du Fallafel. It’s often the street we stroll while stuffing our faces with chick pea and tahini goodness. Once or twice we were tempted to sit on this chair, but an old, bearded man usually appears in the adjacent window with a glance that’s clearly meant to discourage. Is the chair his? Did he leave it out for someone, say 5 years ago? And is he still waiting for them?
Don’t sit down! This chair is reserved. For whom?
Beautiful and branded.
I’ve struggled for a long time to identify what it is about Paris’ old, worn textures that attract me.
I think it’s partly attributed to the way that time allows nature to work its way back into manmade objects. I’m sure St. Paul was gorgeous when it was shiny and new (nearly 400 years ago), but I can’t imagine it being as beautiful without the effects of the wind and rain on the doors, the accidental abrasions caused by human hands, and the green mold and moss residing on the stones.
Unabashedly feminine flowers and hearts.
… and then there’s just dilapidated.
Perhaps the political and economic events of the past few days have colored my view, but I feel like there’s a message here. A big one.