one: a long, languid meal left us ebullient and content. We walked through the Marais in search of APC and Isabel and found this perfect window box instead. Sprawled across the front of the apartment building, it had taken over the twin windows with its swollen green happiness.
two: a perfect dinner. The food was so fresh we might have churned the butter ourselves.
three: an incongruous neon light pointed the way to perfect crepes.
four: we took a bag full of peaches and a woven mat we had found in a forgotten cupboard at the house, and a book, and we sat on the banks of the seine and spent a perfect afternoon reading and sleeping and eating and sleeping and reading. Everything was so still.
five: best friends and family. perfect.
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