L’Observateur : It’s a Small Town After All Edition

I used to think Austin was the world’s biggest small town, but now I’m starting to think Paris is. During the first week of classes this semester, I saw three different students from my photography class at three separate locations around town. One was shooting photos near Les Halles, two was at the Richard Avedon exhibition at Jeu de Paume, and three was on the same Metro car with me – the one that broke down at Opéra.

Also in the first week I was here, I saw this big guy we played basketball with a few times at Gymnase Japy near Bastille. Then, about three weeks later, I saw him on the complete other side of town as I was coming out of work. He said he was going to boxing practice.

One night, we were coming home on the Metro from eating a noodle bowl at Higuma, and we looked directly across from us on the train car, and Matt and Jayne’s friend Florian was sitting there. We didn’t recognize him because he was wearing stage makeup, but he recognized us. He’s an actor.

Then there’s Edward. We ran into him for the first time at a party in Montmartre in November of last year. Then, we saw him at the Parsons-Paris fashion show in May. Then, the other night we found him drunk in the street around the corner. Turns out he lives about two blocks from here and he is Serbian. I would have bet he was from Detroit. No matter, he agrees that the tradicion cereal at the bakery on the northwest corner of J.P. Timbaud and Parmentier is the best fresh-baked bread in the neighborhood.

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