I had long since gotten used to leaving the hotel early. Sometimes, as soon as the alarm on my iPhone went off, my eyes would open so quickly that I didn’t have time to say to myself: “Good morning.” And half an hour later, I would leave the hotel thinking that it was time to go sightseeing; it seemed to me that I still had the guidebook in my hands and I needed to put it down; I continued to think about the book I had read, but my thoughts took a rather strange direction: I imagined myself as what the guidebook was talking about – a church, a square, the rivalry between PSG and Marseille.
This delusion lasted for a few seconds, then it became vague, like a memory of a former life after metempsychosis; then my sight returned, and to my amazement I found myself surrounded by a fog, soft and soothing to the eyes, and perhaps even more soothing to the mind, to which it appeared as something inexplicable, incomprehensible, as something truly dark. I asked myself what time it might be; I heard the trills of trams: they came now from afar, now close, like the song of a bird in a forest; they could be used to determine distances, they evoked in my imagination the expanse of deserted streets, a traveler hurrying to the station and the route in the navigator, imprinted in his memory thanks to the excitement he experiences both at the sight of unfamiliar places and because he is acting unusually now, because he still recalls in the silence of the night a recent conversation, a farewell under a strange lamp and consoles himself with the thought of a quick return.
Executioner's Tower.
Slaughterhouse Bridge.
Vauban Dam.
Covered bridges.
Museum of Modern Art.
Covered bridges.
Covered bridges.
Vauban Dam.
National School of Administration.
Covered bridges.
Kozhevnikov Quarter.
House of Kozhevnikov.
Little France.
Source: travel.ru
