(I owe this title to the incomparable Julio Cortázar, whose remains are just a short walk away from me now in the Cemetery Montparnasse.)
The weather warmed up for a while there in March and we went to park after park after park. My memory is a dizzying blur of the Parc Monceau, the children's park at the Jardin de Luxembourg, the small children's play areas inside the Parc Sevres-Babylone and at the foot of the long stairs leading up to Sacre-Coeur in Montmartre. And the merry-go-rounds, oh, the merry-go-rounds! Malanga Girl rode one almost every day last week. There's the merry-go-round just outside the Abbesses subway stop (the Parisian metro station that is the furthest underground of all of them) in addition to the ones at all of the parks I mention above and the merry-go-round that goes in circles in my head as I replay the day while I am falling asleep at night.
In short, Paris in spring is a grand place to be a child.
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