The view from my apartment balcony couldn't be more quintessential.
Good ol' Eiffey.
People hanging around Sacre Coeur and the Lourve.
Café la Contrascarpe---one of Hemingway's old haunts.
Just up the road, another Hemingway haunt: 39 Rue Descartes, where Hem rented a room to keep up the discipline of writing.
Just a castle.
Café.
Paris in the rain, as it was meant to be.
It's not so bad in the sunlight, either.
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