In Lyon I
would walk down Rue Pierre Corneille and across Place du Maréchal-Lyautey where
there were often men playing bocce, down Rue Godefrey to the back
entrance of a building, up an old-fashioned paternoster lift elevator situated
in the middle of a courtyard, out into cool air over stone steps, and finally
through a stout, wooden door into my sister's apartment overlooking Croix-Rousse – a stunning
hilly neighborhood that rises from the Rhône to a plateau at the
city's highest point. Lyon is intricate in this way, with secret passages
and rooms within even older rooms within even older buildings. I
sometimes wonder about places that went undiscovered though right under my
nose, and others that were never even on the verge of being discovered.
On walks home, the red glow emanating from a third floor apartment window
on Rue Godefrey would distill that sense of mystery into one image.
Romain passa sous la fenêtre de Carla sans voir
la main tendue et le rideau blanc.
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