I can in no way describe this walk.
But yesterday’s rain has cleared everything from the sky. Dad and I would call it ‘crispy.’
Drops of water are falling from the trees with rays of white sunlight shining through them. Thus, as they fall, they are illuminated against the dark pavement.
Whizzing cars yield to bird chirps and the far away sound of Le Torse. And as I walk down toward the river the sun has also illuminated the mist rising from behind the peach- colored houses on the other side of the little valley.
My fingertips are frozen, for the morning is brisk. A small breeze is blowing, and I would have an earache if it weren’t for the hat I grabbed as I tiptoed out of the little art museum of a french apartment that I now call home.
But I feel warmth on my face.
And this is the je ne sais quoi that confronted me on my walk to art school this morning.