For the past couple nights I have had dreams in which I was going to Harvard for grad school. In the first, I played badminton with two colleagues before lying around in the grass. I don't remember what the second was about, but I am pretty sure it had some academic dialogue. I don't take either of these as any kind of sign, except now I would really like to play some sports.



My day was productive and intellectually rewarding. I bought myself a personal-sized mushroom pizza (3€) before inspecting Gilbert Jeune's collection of travel guides and poetry. I gave up and went to Shakespeare & Co. after not being able to find a cheap, bilingual copy of Baudelaire's Fleurs du Mal. There, I sat upstairs for a great length of time reading, taking notes, and eavesdropping. Sylvia was engaged in a Russian lesson. How blessed that woman must be for having been raised speaking both perfect English and French. Meanwhile, visitors popped into the reading room to snap photographs.





For class we visited Notre Dame and its subterranean archaeological museum.

For dinner? Pork chops.





Images:
1. Some very lucky people cross this threshold every day to enter into their apartments.
2. Other lucky people wake up in the morning, get their mugs of coffee, and then spill them when they look out their windows and think the Eiffel Tower is falling on their multi-million-dollar apartments. Then they realize they are fools and that it is only another beautiful Parisian day and it is the clouds, not the tower, that are moving.
3. Some people consider kings to be lucky people. I do not -- who else gets shit on by pigeons?
4. Proust's bedroom.
5. 'Tis the season for the resurrection of Christ.