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The streets at sunset.

I was looking for a café or bar to just sit and paint in the evening. Taking in the French culture, while working on my art.

Looking for inspiration. An inspiration more tangible than the constant here.

I tried my little crazy Breton bar, but it was closed for reasons not explained or understood. So I wandered like one of the many homeless dogs around here.

I find a bar and I sit outside. Under a bright light that distorts all reality of the night but provides excelent light for painting.

The drink ‘whiskey ginger’ doesn’t traslate, but I was led to believe it does until I received an 8 euro whiskey with rocks on the side. Good, but no ginger to accompany.

It gets later and the bar switches from jazz to dance club music.

I leave and run into americans searching for a French sandwich called a Scooby Doo. Something so greasy that only drunks can truely appreciate it.
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