β€˜The people who come to Paris to find themselves are outsiders,’ he said. I was finding this to be true. There was a palpable perfume in the air, borne of us lost souls who drifted in on the breeze and turned our palms out towards the city, as if to display the invisible stigmata that has always marked us out as misfits. We were sitting in La Belle Hortense on the Rue Vieille du Temple in the Marais, a beautiful… Read more »