Today is our last day in Paris, last call for mignon of pork in vanilla sauce, for late night cigarellos consumed in the cold breeze of Rue Timbaud, for the "bling!" the Metro pass makes when passed over the scanner, for hanging with trombone players, cinema maniacs, Amnesty activists, Albanian vagabonds and sharply dressed gay dancers from Cameroon. for spending hours on hours vintage shopping (or sipping Calvados at a cafe while the other is spending hours on hours vintage shopping, depending which one of us you are), for getting a nice flame in the fireplace, for those bloody rooftops I love so much. You can be pretty sure I'm not going to spend this day blogging.
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