Now, because it would be best for this journal to remain as honest as I can afford, I will admit that I wrote this entry, and the few following, twelve days after its marked date. But as you will see I have kept careful notes of my goings-on, so hopefully this will read problem-free. A forewarning: these entries are relatively free of my usual poetics. At this point, I am just trying to catch up with myself. Enjoy.

That morning, I made a run to the BHV (a department store) for notebooks and school supplies. The group met just after noon at l’Institut, from where we departed for le Château de Malmaison. This estate was the last home of Joséphine Bonaparte, Napoléon’s first wife (born Marie-Joseph-Rose de Tascher de la Pagerie in 1763, marries Napoléon in 1796. The two buy Malmaison in 1799, divorce in 1809, and Joséphine dies in 1814). Inside there are three American floors, consisting of salons, boudoirs, un salle de billard, and the best room of all, Napoléon’s library. The château is also home to David’s famous portrait of Napoléon, depicting the gold-caped emperor crossing the Alps on horseback. Pretentious Romanesque detailing adorns much of the château's interior, complemented by Orientalist paintings and Egyptian sculptures integrated in the architecture that allude to Napoléon’s travels abroad. When it comes to the homes of the nobility, it’s not unusual to find rich reds and gold leaf mingling with baby blues and trompe d’oeil. The grounds also housed a hothouse for tropical plants and a so-called temple of love.

On our way back from the château, we stopped at a café for lunch. I had un Lèfe (a delicious and intoxicating amber beer) and un sandwich jambon. After returning to central Paris, Kathryn and I took a walk along the Seine.

Objective Truth: There is dog poop all over the sidewalks. It gets walked on until it finally dissolves into the concrete.