It's Christmas Eve and a lady walks her dog in the medieval streets of the Old Town.
It's easy to let the mind blur and imagine another lady - centuries ago - long dress, dirt on the hem, as she walks to the market on Place aux Herbes. These old streets breathe history.
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C'est la veille de Noël et une dame promène son chien dans les rues médiévales de la Vieille Ville.
Il est facile de laisser l'esprit s'évader pour imaginer une autre dame - dans les siècles passés
- en robe longue, de la saleté sur l'ourlet tandis qu' elle se promène au marché de la Place aux Herbes. Ces vieilles rues respirent l'histoire.
Your comment is very true...plus ca change, plus ca reste le meme... (don't know how to add accents here!)
ReplyDeleteYes, and thanks for sending out this breath of history. Street candids say so much... a sense of wonder revealed.
ReplyDeleteand to walk those streets is to move backward and forward through time. beautiful.
ReplyDeleteI love the old street scenes; thanks for sharing.
ReplyDeleteWell said, Jilly. And I know what brattcat means. One can lose one's self in time, however briefly, in such streets.
ReplyDeleteIt must be amazing to walk on ancient stones every day.
ReplyDelete