"If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast."

The List

Let me just get this off my chest: I am beyond understanding how anyone can walk out of the house without their wallet or their keys. This would, to me, be tantamount to walking outside without pants on.

The Traveller's Ethic

These rules might fit under the rubric of a traveller's ethic, a set of precepts that allows for greater enjoyment and less hassle while travelling, while at the same time protecting the environment and culture of the place visited.

In a Station of the Metro

AS THE TRAINS pulled in and out of the Metro station, a girl, water dripping from her hair, face pink with the cold, came down the escalator to the platform. Pulling a pack of Marlboros out of her leather jacket, she looked around, moving from face to face, as men in suits and trenchcoats pushed past, each one avoiding her stare until he passed, then turning to look back before stepping into the blue and white subway car.

The Paintcan

The artist continued his work, taking paint from the cans in front of the mural, using a narrow brush to finish a mural of the glorious masses, yellow, black, and white, marching towards progress. The stage was as real as an artist's studio: cans of paint sat everywhere on the stage; dropcloths, rolled and spread, lay on the floor. Everything was placed so that one did not search the stage for the tools that did not fit.

Mormon Boy

She sat across the table, her fingerless-gloved hands moved back and forth from the coffee cup to the cigarette, so that the steam and smoke mingled as she brought each to her lips in succession. The pale of her face mingled with the smoke as well, her black hair melted with the dark mahogany paneling behind her seat, but, as she spoke, her eyes pierced the smoke like the pain of a sliver under a fingernail.