When art stinks:
Morning in the Pompidou. Where they hiding the good stuff at? Instead of Kandinsky, saw things ranging from the irritating to the smelly: “Ketchup Sandwich” which was a stack of sheets of glass with ketchup in between, and “100 boots in their crash pad” which was 100 pairs of rubber boots stashed away in a small room, which the viewer spied through a chained door. Concerning the Rancid in Art, anyone? P.U.!
Strolling around rue St. Honore, Beaubourg and Les Halles today. Despite the vow not to have a rich lunch, had some lovely tartes and white Burgundy on the terrace. Light applause broke out in the little shop over my pronunciation of “Roquefort“. I kid you not.
The overcast days are making my amateur photography difficult, but:
La Butte, vue de Pompidou:
Can Le Pavillon N be far away?
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