boîte de couleurs
March 4, 2012
Saturday is market day in Pézanas. Holiday season hasn’t arrived yet so the locals can do their shopping in relative peace and quiet and the prices are low accordingly – baskets at 5 euros!! So I am the token tourist. . . . .
. . . slabs of colour emit from most stalls whether les savons or les bretons pour les enfants. The expression on the stall holders face shows the amount of custom and I wasn’t buying either!
An elegant facade in the Marché des Trois-Six. The market spreads itself throughout the town . . .
. . . a very silly, but really clever dog played dead. The stunts stall holders will go to, to gain custom!
But around the corner sits a very well-behaved dog who wouldn’t demeanour himself to dramatic acts.
Back to the topic, et les salades . . .
et les artichauts. Robust – the size of a small football – and multi coloured.
All types of vines are for sale and strawberries – in March! The strawberries received a good press from those who’d bought last week . . . looked stunning and smelt good too.
Strawberries from Spain above and from Portugal below.
Et les pensées. Dramatic colour for the final act . . . .
. . . to illustrate the pride that the town feels for its famous son, Molière.
Dead–he is dead! The rouge has left a trace
On that thin cheek where shone, perchance, a tear,
Even while the people laughed that held him dear
But yesterday. He died,–and not in grace,
And many a black-robed caitiff starts apace
To slander him whose Tartuffe made them fear,
And gold must win a passage for his bier,
And bribe the crowd that guards his resting-place.
Ah, Moliere, for that last time of all,
Man’s hatred broke upon thee, and went by,
And did but make more fair thy funeral.
Though in the dark they hid thee stealthily,
Thy coffin had the cope of night for pall,
For torch, the stars along the windy sky! Andrew Lang The Burial of Molière