I just got back from La Poste. I stopped in to see Monsieur L. in his brocante. He is very tan and had on a primary blue wife beater T Shirt. He makes me laugh. I go and use my French, he corrects me. I want to do another portrait. There was an older man in the brocante but left when I arrived. I asked about this man. Monsieur L. said nooooo, not him, he's crazy. He tells me that about everyone. I told him I liked his wife beater and he showed it off for me.
I asked him if he wanted any fancobollis ....I forgot, that's Italian for stamp....we both laughed...why francobolli?
(les timbres in French)
I went off to the poste where I am comfortable speaking French with the tiny postman with a big mustache that looks like a tiny version of Inspector Clouseau with a beige vest on. He's very sweet. He seems to always find a much less expensive way for me to send things, everytime.
When passing the brocante again and Mon. L. , I spied a clear, bright pink parapluie ( umbrella) that he had for sale on the street. I grabbed it, put it up and over my shoulder. I walked very slowly past the entrance to the brocante twirling the umbrella, head thrown back like I was taking a stroll in the rain.
I turned around and walked back past, twirling and enjoying the imaginary rain through the beautiful pink umbrella. I got a nice chuckle out of Monsieur L. in his primary blue wife beater. Do you think he describes me as crazy?
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