down into a tunnel in London and came up, 2 hours later, in Paris, where the weather was much better. Dry roof tiles instead of damp. A few stars. Spent most of today in the Luxembourg Garden, sitting on a bench in the playground watching Lucie go round and round on the zip line, and thinking about why a seven-year-old would want to spend her day lining up, jumping on, going round, repeat. There was the obvious physical pleasure of spinning through the air, as on a swing, but slightly different, since there is a track and some distance is covered. But maybe equally pleasant the presence of potential friends. "I'm bored," meant the latest new friend had gone home. Eyes rolling meant the new friend had abandoned her for either another new friend or an old friend. Is this how most seven year old girls behave or only some of them? What if, unlike Lucie, they are shy or, heaven forbid, unsociable? How hardwired would that be?
It is slowly getting dark at 5 pm. Tea noises from the kitchen. Card game noises from the living room.
Came back with a pile of new books: Boland, Vona Groarke, Hugo Williams, Maurice Riordan, Sebald, Harry Mathews, Kathleen Jamie, Stallings, May Lan Tan.