For a very long time metro tickets were turquoise. The streets of Paris were strewn with them, discarded after use. I have seen them in other cities, too, jettisoned from the wallets of Parisians abroad and visitors returned. Then not so long ago they became mauve. Now, with swift caprice, they have become white. With all this change it's no wonder that the celebration of incoherence that is Post-Modernism continues to be so popular among French intellectuals.
Beaujolais Nouveau isn't half as bad as it sounds, if pretty close to grape juice. Better for your kids than Ribena, that's for sure.
Later that night I dreamt of Hammersmith Bridge, in all its greenish glory, and woke in terror, as if I had looked on Hades itself. Odd, and a little unfair. What can it mean?
The recently opened John Lewis Food Hall is just a Waitrose, and not even in disguise. The Wholefoods on High Street Ken does not sell big tubs of chocolate raisins, so what's the point?
Words, from a mostly metrocentric perspective. See Metrocentricity for pictures.
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