Paris

Paris was plenty of fun, a feverish nauseous weekend spent scraping my worn-out eyes along endless french architecture, punctuated by coffee and alcohol. I drew and wrote a bit and maybe some of that will end up pressed up against your screens. Here’s some sketches for padding.


After my first proper french conversation during which a Spanish immigrant convinced me to give him my coffee money (huh) I settled down on a curb to draw this instead of in the café opposite.

I almost accidentally ended up in the No Sarkozy Day protests. Here one of the sound trucks has stopped for a party in the Place de la Republique, manned by a guy in shades and a turquoise dressing gown, one in a suit and Sarko mask and one with an afro and shades. The whole caboodle seemed more confident and carnivalesque than in the UK, and instead of being mostly middle class white kids, it was mostly middle class white people.

Looking down on the streets below from the Basilique du Sacré Coeur, hemmed and buzzed by the tourists and hawkers. Never anywhere to sit.

Thanks to everyone who piled on the unnecessary comforts and extravagances of that weekend.

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