A day in the cobbled streets of the village near ours. I am staying on my home turf for the duration so as not to scare off the already skittish Parisian women I stalk for your weekly pleasure.
I’m afraid with a big black/purple/yellow eye — even with my patter and exceedingly chic cards — they will run off in terror. (And who could blame them?) At least when I’m out here everyone knows me and they fall into position. When I find a new subject, I drag someone out of a boutique to vouch for my impeccable reputation.
As you can see, it’s skirts and dresses out here as well.
On another register: It is raining on France’s magnificent Fête Nationale today.