-
On a black night, in the misery of a rainy Paris winter, I scamper past Place de La Republique into the upper east corner of Le Marais. Suddenly, I see a burst of color emanating from a narrow set of stairs. This mysterious passage looks run-down, filthy even. On closer inspection one I see that…
-
Palermo is a clash–a battleground of sorts where class, lifestyle and cultural identity impose on one another everyday. For me, it’s an enigma. Sicilians are the warmest people you’ll meet, but then again, they have a legacy of tensions with North Africa, of racism and xenophobia. Palermo has a wealth of Baroque architecture, but their…
-
It’s a breezy, mid-spring Wednesday in Paris, the ninth Arrondissement. A fluffy white Samoyed pops out of a narrow road closely tailed by his athleisure fitted owner. I stumble upon a moment of peace; a sudden gust of wind flows through the Sycamore trees. They encircle a small, neoclassical fountain. I approach. Pigeons bounce at…
-
On top, curved like a capsized canoe, drifts an orange peel.
-
The Parisian landscape is immersive yet alienating. Within reach, I could tap 15 people on the shoulder, but that wouldn’t be polite, would it?
-
Marseille is one of those cities that make you dream—the Vieux Port, the Mediterranean, the lifestyle. It has all the qualities of paradise. A normal afternoon consists of a large terrace, a highball of chalk-yellow Pastis, a good book, salt water, sunshine, and maybe, the occasional rabble of passing tourists. C’est la base. But trouble…
-
‘My umbrella, it’s my prized possession,’ he starts. ‘It gives me a look of sophistication and it protects me from rain.’
-
December 15th Moonshiner—h2130 A rainy night. Near Place Des Vosges, on the outskirts of the Marais, the backstreets are slick and empty. The three of us scamper across the wide Boulevard Beaumarchais. Rain picks up. It’s near freezing. Street lights reflect in a violent orange hue. My feet are damp, but my mouth tastes of…