Another Anecdote

Today I had a day off before another journée de pré-rentrée (I will not bother trying to translate this expression in English, because it is just nonsensical French school jargon, as we are already at work since yesterday morning) and on Thursday morning pupils and teachers will be back on the chain gang. At least, kids are not boring and, even when they are difficult, they are still human.

After visiting Oscar's (and Robbie's) tomb, I started my brand new diary and enjoyed one of the main things I was born for: writing. My diary is 95 % written in Italian, my mother tongue, and 5 % in English, while my blog is 5% written in Italian and 95 % in English, quite quickly, often on a whim, especially for my poems, and always by myself, without Artificial Idiocy. Two years ago, I explained here why I prefer to write in English.

I could have chosen to write in French, but it would not be the same: even if I am perfectly fluent, I would not be myself.

I had some bureaucratic stuff to do at the Mairie du (N)ème arrondissement, then I had a cruelty-free pause gourmande with fruit salad and a vegan mirabelle cake before going to my favourite Parisian park, enjoying the wonderful sight of hundreds of dahlias (much bigger than the ones at the Giardino Inglese in Palermo) and hugging my dearest Sophora Japonica.

[Below: the future is breathing down this bud's neck.]

[Above: a Busy Bee, completely in the flow. Below: a Smiling Familiar Face I will never show on my blog.]

I was happily standing under the lovely green canopée of my dear friend when, without any reason, I thought about another dear friend, so I had a look at Morrissey Central and I was glad to find a new message with another interesting anecdote illustrated by an old picture of Bryan Ferry I had never seen before (I was far from being born and kicking at that time) which shows a curious resemblance to the early Nineties Rockabilly Morrissey.

[No spoiler: Morrissey's anecdote "So sad about us" is linked above]

Even when he recalls missed opportunities and regrets, Morrissey has a very peculiar storytelling style and he cannot help adding something funny.

After this entertaining read, I had a walk in my beloved park. While I was leaving, a Blackbird flew in front of me and greeted me with his lovely singing voice: I guess it was the Baby Blackbird I rescued two years ago who wanted to tell me:

"Bentornata a Parigi! Mi sei mancata!".

Article and photos by me; screenshot from Morrissey Central.

Vera da Pozzo

Paris, 1st September 2026

(C) Vera da Pozzo

(C) Italy is Mine

(C) Italy is Mine and It owes Me a Living

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