I remember a time when my mom used to have to drag me into antique shops. I used to recite Shel Silverstien: "I'm freaking, I'm freaking, my mom's gone antiquing." I don't know when exactly I become interested in "old things" but I couldn't imagine a life not surrounded by this type of nostalgia.
Though far smaller than the flea markets of Paris, Bordeaux has a once a week antique fair.
On Sunday mornings place Saint-Michel becomes a Marché aux Puces.
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| The reflection of Saint Michel. |
I don't know whether it's a good thing or a bad that I haven't got a house to put all these treasures into. Sometimes I have a lonely feeling inside because I have no permanency anywhere. Though it's probably for the best that I'm not tied to one spot at this point, it would be nice to have a home. Then I could decorate and redecorate and have a matching set of dishes...
Someday...
