I pretend I am an artist.  I like to paint.  It gives me a sense of myself, as well as enshrouds me with a feeling of comfort.  I cannot explain this feeling.  It’s similar to any of the other creative things I must do – such as writing — but at the same time, the emotion it brings out in me can sometimes overwhelm me.

Because of my love of all things art, we decided to stay in the Montmartre section of Paris.  In the 19th century, Montmartre became known as the artistic center of Paris.  Pissarro, Jongkind, Picasso  and Modigliani lived there.  Artist associations comprised of van Gogh, Matisse, Valadon, Renoir, Degas, Utrillo and many others were formed.  Watch An American In Paris, and you’ll see a bit of how artists supposedly worked and lived (without, I am quite sure, breaking into musical dance numbers at the drop of a hat).


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Watching a painter, and viewing his paintings in the courtyard


Dali museum (You can see where Tim Burton was inspired)


Dali -- the Chef


Living statues were all over. One morning, after I had taken this picture, I saw him walking up the stairs, full makeup, half costumed, on his way to work.


The typical view of Paris from the lower stairs of Sacre Coeur


Windmills of Montmartre


heh - loved this


The house I want to live in, when I win the lottery and move to Paris


Music wafts up


The Moulin Rouge


The area surrounding the Moulin Rouge has a load of sex shops.



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