I wish I had had my camera this week on several occasions. If I had been better prepared, here's two scenes I might have shared:
a baguette posed on top of one of La Poste's yellow mailboxes.
a 40ish fellow on the metro one evening, dressed in a suit. He's flushed and sweating and his shirt collar is too tight. He turns his head and I can see that his forehead is a maze of surgical tape, blood oozing out from the edges. I start to make up half a dozen stories about what happened. And then the crowd parts a bit and I can see his gym bag at his feet with his boxing gloves peeking out.