Before the Evening Trade
Île Saint-Louis
I passed before anyone had sat down. The cobblestones held the last rain like a second row of lamps, and the chairs waited in their pairs, still dry under the awning, still cold.
Île Saint-Louis
I passed before anyone had sat down. The cobblestones held the last rain like a second row of lamps, and the chairs waited in their pairs, still dry under the awning, still cold.