The first time Sergey visited Paris, he stayed at a small hotel by Place de la République. Since then, even though he has already come back to Paris several times, he has always chosen a hotel in the same place.
Sergey is the most fanciful creature of habits I have ever met, he has in his temper many apparent paradoxes of this kind.
So I think he has arrived by now and I’m going to look for him.
The sky is getting stormy, it’s menacing and sultry. But I love dark skies over Paris.
La République looks at her kingdom (a paradox, which Sergey would like) from the top of her pedestal, with her perfectly immutable neoclassic tunic.
But she has a strange red hat; at least it looks so at the first sight.
Maybe a tribute to the red Phrygian beret of Marianne…
Then, paying more attention, I notice the rope and I understand it’s just a naughty burst red balloon, which ended its short flight trapped to the statue.
The balloon dreamed of high skies and remained ironically to veil the imperturbable face of the symbol of French republic.