I am sitting where arenas have stood for over two millennia, where water from three rivers meet, and where plane trees stand naked facing an empty square.
I drink coffee and eat a sugared crêpe, bathed in sunshine pouring in through my glass cage.
“Le Goéland” is the name of the café.
It evokes flight and sea breezes, wind-blown sands and ruffled feathers…
In intertwined bare branches, I recall other squares, other bare trees, and my heart forgets what is, and feels the loss of what could have been…
Then, a stranger winks.
And I notice how blue a cold sky can be.