secret details

It is the love in the detail that makes a place sincere and historic. Walking around the town for the past few days she finally had time to turn her eyes slightly upward and notice the detail. The facades of the buildings were beautiful – wrought iron balconies, window boxes overflowing with small red flowers, tall black intricate lamp posts leaving pools of glowing light – Of course the cathedrals and chateaus were awe-inspiring but the slight statue of the Virgin tucked into the wall of a small apartment building on the third floor, if you could take the time to see it, and take the time to watch it, was equally as beautiful. Nantes is a town of secret art and she was having so much fun wandering the streets on the hunt for the large lion faces carved into the walkways outside restaurants, or the bodies of saints or the macabre faces of the green men that peppered parking lots, hallways, walkways, always hidden from plain sight and only visible to those who knew they were there or were of the mind to look for them and appreciate them. On the way out to have a coffee with friends or off to work or to the store they caught you by surprise if you were lucky and turned your day around. Running into a masterpiece during a mundane errand – that was the most magical part.
She had found an apartment and spent the past few days lugging her luggage across the cobblestone streets – through the fair and the chateau and past the cathedral, down the street from the best bakery in town and around the corner from the art store (where students queued constantly to prep for classes) - down a shadowy alleyway right in the middle of town – through a big red door and up two flights of ancient stone steps - her apartment – small and perfect – genuine French colocataire (roommate) artist and everything. Dull stucco walls were covered with colored scarves, an old dj turntable acted as a bookshelf, paints and brushes out, clothes hung up, Obama put on the wall.