I loved everything about the Picasso museum — the stone stairs worn in the centres, the white shutters, the paintings and drawings and ceramics, the relationships–Matisse, Cezanne, Jackson Pollock–the beautiful women, and maybe most of all, the Aubade, a morning song, darkness and light, its preparatory drawings so stunning, and how I am still thinking about it after lunch at Cafe Breizh where we also ate in 2009, buckwheat galettes with cabbage, sausage, Comte, mustard creme, a glass of cider, and sorbet, also buckwheat, and the familiar walk back along Rue Rambuteau.
...Theresa Kishkan 