Qui a marché ici ?

In Paris, I try not to get too taken in by the "sights" despite their very obvious presence... While I create lots of panoramic images of the popular places, I tend to prefer the less populated spaces. Galerie 88 was one such place... it was a very narrow salon de thé along the Seine, not far from l'Hôtel De Ville.

Until I entered here, I'd not entered an eatery in which I didn't think I could rely on my english. On this trip, I was hoping to actually use some of the french I've been learning, and not rely entirely on the likelihood that the people to whom I'd speak knew english. It remains a daunting task for me as words don't quite roll from my tongue with the ease I'd prefer. The time it takes to put only a couple of words together in french seems like an eternity at times.

If I have one regret about my stay, it's that I didn't request of Phil that he only speak to me in french... it would have been hell, no doubt, but it would have forced me to use the language more than I did.

How did this stray to language? It was about small places!!

Ah, yes... I entered Galerie 88 wanting to see Anne McAulay's photographs and decided to sit and have a salad and a beer (two actually!). I expected that it would mean that I'd have to speak in french... as it turned out, I didn't have to speak much french as une salade grecque and une Carlsberg bière sound much the same in english as they do in french! Still, there is that whole approach/avoidance thing that occurs — that moment when we choose to take the safe route or choose to leap forth. This was one of those moments for me.

Besides, I really wanted to see Anne's photographs!

As for the title of this... it is a constant thought as I visit very old places — I wonder about those who have come before me. "Whose footprints have my feet just now retraced?" Famous or not, I wonder what kinds of lives have tread on these same floorboards or on the same cobblestone paths I've wandered. In a place like Paris, it's difficult to not feel something other than the stone or wood beneath my feet.

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Ombre de la Liberté

Ombre de la Liberté © Patrick T. Power

I tried to photograph something a little less tangible... something that was more in my mind than on Allée des Cygnes. "Getting it right" just doesn't seem to be an issue with my country's current administration or with most of the people that supposedly represent us (or our best interests) in the "hallowed halls" of Congress. We no longer have leaders here — at least none that seem to truly be leading this country. Lots of words spew forth from Washington, D.C. about patriotism and freedom, but actions — as we all know — tend to speak louder than words, and the actions that my government has been taking over the last five to six years have nothing to do with making this country a great nation. We continue to drive ourselves inward (as a country), like brat children that sneer through fences which protect all that they own. And now, "we" are considering sending the National Guard to the Mexican border! A couple of verses from a Jackson Browne song of a few years ago just came to mind...

They call him by "the Prince of Peace" And they call him by "the Savior" And they pray to him upon the seas And in every bold endeavor And they fill his churches with their pride and gold While their faith in him increases But they've turned the nature that I worship in From a temple to a robber's den In the words of the rebel Jesus We guard our world with locks and guns And we guard our fine possessions And once a year when Christmas comes We give to our relations And perhaps we give a little to the poor If the generosity should seize us But if any one of us should interfere In the business of why there are poor They get the same as the rebel Jesus from — The Rebel Jesus

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