Bonjour and good morning, beautiful bonbons! This is Amanda from First Milk. I'm so very pleased to be starting my Saturday with you while beautiful Deb is off in the City of Light.
Mornings--and especially cloudy ones, like today--are my time for drinking warm things and reading poems and thinking amusing thoughts. So let's start the weekend right with a little Saturday-morning French modernism, shall we? For stirring into your cafe au lait, for tucking into pockets and for smiling at, a little (translated) Charles Baudelaire this day.
From Le Spleen de Paris, "The Soup and the Clouds":
My dear little mad beloved was serving my dinner, and I was looking out of the open dining-room window contemplating those moving architectural marvels that God constructs out of mist, edifices of the impalpable. And as I looked I was saying to myself: "All those phantasmagoria are almost as beautiful as my beloved's beautiful eyes, as the green eyes of my mad monstrous little beloved."
All of a sudden I felt a terrible blow of a fist on my back, and heard a husky and charming voice, a hysterical voice, a hoarse brandy voice, the voice of my dear little beloved, saying "Are you going to eat your soup or aren't you, you bloody, dithering cloud-monger?"
Happy Saturday.
A.
{Photo by mattscoggin}
