We’re here for a long weekend in Paris because of an old Englishman who likes to doodle on his iPhone. And I happen to have learned of this doodler thanks to NPR, which, with a cup of sugarless coffee on the I-87 enjoyed from behind the wheel of an old Honda, is how I spend every morning, Monday through Friday. David Hockney’s “Fresh Flowers” exhibit is the entire reason we’re here, and I included among these photos two of three iPhone drawings Anna copied while standing in the darkness of the Fondation Pierre Berge Yves Saint Laurent where Hockney’s digital doodles are on display until the end of January. It’s been three condensed days filled with art, cheese, wine, chocolate, walking, and unseasonably warm temperatures. The macaroon towers, the purchase of a hot pink beret (dare I say raspberry??) and the Sunday morning stroll down Rue Mouffetard will remain favorites. It doesn’t get any better than this. I’ll type deeper thoughts once I’m back in New Jersey and not as tipsy or tired. But for now, a brief note about Paris, from Paris before the moment is gone.
