i was walking to the bus stop outside utown at night after dinner, and looked up and saw a thinly cut crescent moon, and it was a perfect chesire moon. the inky sky sort of set apart the brilliant clarity of it all, and i wondered if that bright white splice was a door to the daylight of paris. the Other World, my Dream World with sunlit boulevards and vast, vast sky so unmarred by buildings or man. turning out of rue de beune, the way i took in all that sky made me conscious but not at all shy to the incessant mangled ballerina spinning i did when emerging out to quai voltaire. when they planned for paris, did they know how to make human so small and insignificant because we face so much sky, where even the hausmann and beaux-arts buildings cannot compare to its magnificity? there was one evening where the sky was a lovely gradient and the sun was setting but still to be seen in the pink lit up trails of planes flying overhead. there were so many planes flying overhead that evening. man may think they have conquered skies and clouds, but in paris, i'd like to think that the skies overwhelm us.