Meetings with
strangers part 1
by Jilliana
Ranicar-Breese
I sat down on
the bus next to a plain woman wearing a French
wool beret in a cheerful red and a heavy black
winter’s coat. Well it was winter after all.
She turned to me and proudly announced she’d
just returned from Paris, the city of lights. Was
she trying to impress me? I had lived on and off
for 25 years in Paris.
‘Which part of Paris?’ I wearily asked.
‘The 17th arrondisment’
‘Porte de Champeret? ‘ I asked trying
to impress her with my knowledge.
Now why would anyone want to go there in winter?
Eureka!
‘Did you go to the Foire de Vieux Papier?’
She gasped
‘Mais oui!’
It turned out she was a postcard dealer called
Elizabeth and we both knew several of the dealers
in Paris.
It’s a small world n’est pas?
Written
5/11/24 at Nightingale
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