In the last few days before I left Europe, I lost my camera.  I think I left it on the steps of the Rodin museum which would make the last picture I took, of the Whistler Muse (Venus climbing the mountain of fame).

Yesterday, I tried to remember what was on the camera.  Some of Rodin’s work, and the rest if I remember correctly, of the Fete de la Musique in Paris.  That night I wandered the streets with Gaby and Mark, listening to a diversity of music: Gay Male choir singing Queen, local bands with strange instruments on street corners, Spanish, swarthy tones at the Grand Palais, and drumming in the Place des Vosges.

Thanks camera.  You served me well.  Hopefully you are not in a lost and found somewhere, waiting to be found.  I am not longer able to retrieve you.  I have moved very far away for the time being.  Yet, if you insist on waiting, I will try and return soon.  We will rendezvous at the place we parted ways.  Under the Whistler, in Paris, in June.