promenades à pied d'hiver - deux

Excerpts from previous unposted writings:

Walking on Champs Elysees on Christmas day evening, I'm struck by how busy it is. The whole road and pedestrian walkway is gridlocked with shops selling knick-knacks for parents walking with their children, group of young guys out for the prowl, tourists buying vin chaud to soak up the experience, young couples holding each other so tightly as not to lose each other, early twenties girls braving the bitterly cold weather wearing nothing more than short skirts, open toe heels and thin stockings and us. I had decided to leave London for a quiet end of the year celebration; a sort of reset button. The soiree invitations are as abundant as ever but I've politely declined all of them. There is something rejuvenating about not lifting a finger for Christmas and I haven't done something like this for a long long time.

Wrapped warm walking out to the street, the Brunette commented about how nice it is to have the pied the terre at Miromesnil. I explained that the choice is clear, it's a stone throw away from Le Bristol and Le Crillon. She laughed. Our walk ended perching at the bar in Le Crillon Bar ordering a Negroni por moi and a Sakura for mademoiselle. The drinks were excellent thanks to the head barman Frederick. Behind us, a few couples yong and old sitting in the deep red chairs attentively listening and sharing each others company. By the piano, Anton sits comfortably deep in trance while feeling the jazz he's playing; something I truly appreciate.