Pulling over next to the lake ,the beat of the bike stopping as I killed the engine ,leaning the bike over onto it’s side stand ,the tip of the sun ...ust starting to disappear over the horizon .The heat of the day now disappearing and a very nice warm evening just beginning .Taking my helmet and jacket off ,hanging them on the bike ,hoping I can get a room for the evening .Walking into the lake entrance of the bar ,I gave way to a woman walking out ,not really paying much attention to her as I. He had a small third-story flat in the seventh arrondissement. It was a walkup built just before the turn of the century that consisted of a kitchen, two rooms and a bathroom. The windows were taller than he was. It had been his home of the previous nine months. His neighbor was the widow of an assistant curator at the Louvre. When he was in town, she would invite him for tea or wine in the late afternoon. Her flat was an art gallery of paintings and sculptures that was sublime.Hunter's mind. More

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