On the days that we go to Alliance française, we take our petit déjeuner at a corner café near the school.
We sit by the window.
Outside, everyone is on their way somewhere: on scooters, on bicycles, on foot, coming out of the métro, waiting for a bus.
The street cleaners in their lime-coloured vests are busy with their green-bristled brooms.
Energies up and running.
We’re not quite there yet, lingering over café crème and chocolat chaud, the world framed in the window pane a painting, a film, a story ... we’ll step into it soon.
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