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Sitting by canal at corner of Quai de Jemmapes and rue de Lancy — Wednesday, 6.5, 9:55 pm.
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Same old Musee D’Orsay shot I’ve been taking since the late ’80s.
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Quai de Jemmapes and rue de Lancy — Wednesday, 6.5, 9:05 pm.
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$400 bills and change for a pair of wireless headphones? I don’t think so. Skullcandy will do just fine, thanks.
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I’ve been staring at Van Gogh paintings for decades, first at the Jeau de Paume and more recently at the Musee D’Orsay. And each new time I get a little more emotional. Tears almost well up. The guy was so unrespected, so unloved, so unknown, so broke his entire life. Anyway, yesterday I re-experienced the usual-usual in front of “Le Nuit Etoile” (Starry Night). I put my face right up to it and it looked so vivid and shiny and fresh and alive with dozens of little micro-globs or oil paint sticking out a millimeter or two from the canvas, like little micro-sculptures or micro-moldings. It was as if Van Gogh himself was alive in the next room.
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