Monday, April 19, 2010

cafe du destin

"regarde! le cafe des deux moulins! le cafe d'amelie poulin.'

so the red beret and me entered the warm indoors of the celebrated cafe. this was in the heart of montmatre on a chilly winter's day. this cafe, mentioned in a post last year or so, is the fabulous setting of amelie poulin's supposed destiny. it is stage ground of many a fascinating meeting, a quick glance over the top of a menu, a fleeting smile across the room and, as she passes, 'un cafe, s'il vous plait.'
it is the bistro terminal of amelie's blooming destiny. i could almost hear yann tiersen's piano in the background, infused in the steaming coffee and the clatter of utensils.
i sat in one of the booths and glanced around me. she'd been here. amelie poulin herself. little wise french child, girl-server, good-doer, pebble-skipper with a cheeky smile, almost knowing. like the mona lisa, but naughty. and not frozen in a picture frame. amelie is alive and well.

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