In between cultural conflicts and economic stress. In between bohemian free souls and tight and dressed scholars. In between dark and trash caverns and glimmering salons. In between laughs and love affairs, disputes and tears. In between dispersed and petite train stops, a magic city hides itself from those who oversee what seems as a casual and monotonous ville.
All along small blocked streets, much more as antique roads from the renaissance, entrataining and time filling stores call upon our eyes. Roads which ultimately lead us to a communal park, or shall I dare to say, our communal park. Shall I call ‘ours’ that which is brought into life by wonderers and sharers, by us?
It is us, those who come from the scattered villages that esthetically position themselves in this beautiful region, who turn this city into a journey of fire and sleep prohibition.
Running from what some call babylon, climbing the stairs of the great peak of Corum, spontaneously changing direction to where the city lights can be somehow seen, Au Peryou. Barely being able to walk and to watch out for the raakais, listening at hobos with effortless patience and watching with pitty the marginal prodigious artists from the streets. With comfortable dizziness and slightly closed and irritated eyes, we let our minds release and dance.
All but modest, this appealing city made me fall in love.
Without a wink of an eye, nor a sensual advertise, this imperfect city allures to our eyes.
What a charming city have I got to meet.
If I only knew that you were going to me rendre fou.