This time I didn't turn right towards the greenery of the Bois de Vincennes. This time I turned left towards the tall chimneys which spit out white fluffy smoke, towards the bridge which crosses over the railway tracks.
I followed the speedway flanked by warehouses up to the muddy river. No cathedrals here, a cement factory. Wind in my ears, noise in my ears, almost pain but not quite. A lonely ancient deserted stone house survives in the midst of new austere buildings taking over this part of town. Only the crazy made up barges berthing on the newly perked up dock seem to still possess a soul.
