We sit picking tradition from our teeth, sated. Picasso did this here, too. Nothing like an aloof waiter serving you goose gizzard and white beans with a barely-hidden sneer to warp your view of the human form. We finish our frogs legs and meander past the art shops, indulging our sensuality in our selection of greeting cards, and catch the Metro to the next neighborhood down the Seine. Paris, for a city of 11 million people, is surprisingly compact.Walking across the bridge to the Ile St. Louis, we see below us a man at home in his own corner of the Left Bank, relaxing in his living room, at peace with the world. We wish him well when it rains.
