Sunday Morning

Sunday morning in Paris. 8.30am. A group of boys meet to play an early game of football on the small court at the side of the park. Their love for the game helps them look past the nose-dripping cold temperatures. At least the sun is out and the sky is a clear, almost white, blue. An hour or so later, the park’s playground is full of laughter, cries and “Maman! Regarde moi!” as children climb and play. The parents sit around the edge of the playground watching and smoking and chatting. Their toys are toxic cigarettes that they puff on one after the other.

At 11am the sound of bells resounds across the city as hundreds of churches finish their services and everyone heads home for a family lunch. Queues form outside boulangeries as people go to buy fresh baguettes and maybe something nice for dessert. Soon, all of the shops will be closed and Sunday will become the day of relaxation and family time. If the weather stays nice, this afternoon the canal will be busy with families strolling along enjoying the sunshine.

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2 Responses to “Sunday Morning”

  1. Chuck says:

    You have taken me there

  2. Deanna says:

    nice piece of writing Jess – merci xx

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