A very grey day out
Days like today, grey skies with little attempt on the part of the sun to come out, and raw, always make me think of winter in Paris. The days there are just as short, the darkness descends on the city early and the air is humid, making the cold air raw. One bundles up to get from the house to the Métro and then, once in the fetid corridors of the underground, begins to roast.
The year I lived in Paris, eons ago, 1977-78, it snowed three times and the city was thrilled. I remember walking across the Jardins de Luxembourg in the 6th Arrondisement and needed to dodge volleys of snowballs. The snow lasted for one day but people made that snowday into a holiday.
I took this shot of the Tour Montparnasse (a composite of two photos) from my garret window from my fifth-floor maid's quarters room in a ramshackle pension de famille. It was a true Père Goriot situation: wtih each flight, the stairs got less elegant, the carpet more ragged and the overall effect of increasing shabbiness. By the time one arrived at the pension where I lived, the stairs were no longer marble but wood; the upstairs WC was shared by 16 people and the ONE bathtub for the entire flat by 20+. In any event, the 1974 Tour Montparnasse (56 stories, considered scandalous by many) served as my weather measure. It was pretty simple: if I couldn't see it because of fog, I knew the weather was lousy :)
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