Beans, Baguettes, & Boulogne

& BOULOGNE.

Alone except for strangers, I surveyed this Friday sunset from a gray bench, unwilling to fathom the same concreteness of my imminent departure. My Norwegian daydream had become a temporary reality and I wasn’t keen to relinquish him.

You might say I’m reluctant to unclench my sweaty palms from this city I’ve grown to cherish, this beautiful far-away Oslo.

A forest walk can host any number of mental states: listless, quixotic, sullen, pensive. As the setting sun scattered its remaining light amongst the tall grasses, some far-off, watch-wearing scientist noted the time: 22:00.

This walk’s state? Insouciant.

I will photographically exploit intersecting diagonals at any and all opportunities, particularly as the sun sets on a power plant in forest-cuddling, northern Oslo.

After a satisfying day of trekking about Paris with friends, I basked in that most delicious of summer luxuries, warm dusk, reflecting its ochre luster on the crisp ripples of the Seine. The hour is magical as is summer in Paris!

I’m as allegiant a word nerd as they come, but it’s sunsets like these—taken from the top deck at Pompidou— that (momentarily) rob such ragged syllable combos of any and all potency.