My husband and I spent the afternoon in Pére Lachaise, the largest cemetery in Paris, and one of my favorite spots in the city.
It's home to over 300,000 resting bodies, amongst them: Oscar Wilde, Jim Morrison, Edith Piaf, Honoré de Balzac, Frédéric Chopin, Marcel Proust, Abélard and Héloïse, Sarah Bernhardt, Molière, Gertrude Stein, Colette, Georges Méliès, Richard Wright, Camille Pissarro, Marcel Marceau, Jean Auguste Dominique Ingres, Max Ernst, Gustave Doré, and Isadora Duncan.
You know. Just a few names you might recognize.
It's the kind of cemetery that People Who Like Cemeteries fantasize about. It's a complete world, a miniature city, a tranquil haven. It's beauty and sheer enormity inspires poetry and sketches and picnics and sad love songs.
AND . . . it's filled with weird stuff like this:
And, finally, with a friend . . .
Talk with you all again soon. Thank you for your support and excitement of Anna and the French Kiss! Your comments and tweets and Facebook messages have made me so, so happy.
I can't WAIT to share Anna with you.