No More Learning

And the whole
atmosphere of the poor           of Paris as a foreigner sees them — the cobbled alleys, the
sour reek of refuse, the bistros with their greasy zinc counters and worn brick floors, the
green waters of the Seine, the blue cloaks of the Republican Guard, the crumbling iron
urinals, the peculiar sweetish smell of the Metro stations, the cigarettes that come to
pieces, the pigeons in the Luxembourg Gardens — it is all there, or at any rate the feeling
of it is there.