written by Emma on June 8, 2010
A bench, shade on the shoulder, newspaper in hand – definition of the Parisian street for me.
This is my first blogpost, so I’m not really sure where I’m going with it, or how to do this. But, first try, and just as in cooking: maybe it’s the taste rather than the form that counts. Or at least, I hope so.
Benches. One thing I like about them is that they create a space, a community. Sometimes, I feel quite estranged from streets, cities, and capitals especially; so many people, so many stories, so many routes. Where do I stand in the mittle of that, where is my space, and place?
This is why, benches, or at least in Paris, are so important in my eyes. They reconnect me to the life outside, they rebuild public space in the midst of the rushing cars, roaring motorcycles and other steretypical city noises. Life is crammed in Parisian appartments, for a large majority, there is no space home. So one re-creates it outside. On the benches. People read their newspapers, sit and look, chat, snack, are out, together. Even though, no words are really exchanged, looks are, and so is time.
It’s the simple discreet I’m not formally recognizing you but I know you’re there, and we are cohabiting way of being together. Creating an ephemere, touchless, tiny fish-net between people.
And, the streets are ours. The streets are home. Cafe terraces, parks, public squares, fountains, are also about this. But benches are more subtle, a little shadow, a small insignificant presence. But it’s there.
Anyways, to when more benches in Edinburgh?
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