we woke up at around ten...jill woke up and took a shower at around 9:30....after we got ready for the day, we took kris to our favorite bou in montmartre, it had been closed for two days so we were extra psyched!!!! Adam bought the best green olive and emmental breads....i had the pain au choc...kris rolled plain croissant, i can't remember what jill got. we ate them down the street on the way to the abesses metro....to go to the montparnasse cimetaire. Here we walked right by sartre's grave and didn't notice, we looked for serge gainsbourg's, found susan sontag's, tons of beautiful and slightly creepy mausauleums and head-stones, we eventuallly found serge's. Jill and adam took tons of photos...we then headed out for the catacombs...theme of the day was gently related to death (haha jill) these were really something. super dark and filled with ornate stacks of bones and skulls, designed and delineated into various years and incidents....I was hoping to see dead monks, but instead got to read the various ominous signs that riddled the different sections of bone piles. I had to translate all of them in front of kris, who also kept trying to make me practice my french R's which arrrrrrrre trerrrrrible. One of the signs I remember best, said something akin to: in the morning think that you won't make it to the night, in the night think that you won't make it to the morning...they went on and on, varied in intensity, but truly asked the visitor to really think about death. Like skulls and bones surrounding you in the dark wasn't enough. I thought I would be scared of the dark but it felt super nice. I had had two migraines that morning, more like in my sleep, so the dark felt good. The drips from the cavern walls did creep me out a little so I looked rather palestinian in the crypts. After the winding never ending stairs up to the top we popped into the Ed store for water, adam bought an apple and forgot to weigh it. This is weird, you weigh your own produce here and print out stickers for the cashiers, so they don't have to remember any weird codes. (makes more sense) We then went to the cartier foundations photo museum to see a show of walker evans and henry cartier bresson. Like hamburger eyes of the forties. The desperate parts of america....interesting immagery for a gal reading lolita as its set in that era....further proof my book selection is marvy. Cute little kids were zipping around on razor scooters in a nearby schools yard at playtime. A. american schools would never allow these kind of toys on school time B. the kids didn't wear helmets. ahhh poor america. After the photos we jotted over to the modern art cartier museum. Cesar was showing (thumb sculptures, boob sculptures, compressions of cars, poop looking drip sculptures.) It wasn't amazing, but a pretty building...and cute ass little enfants taking a tour with their school. Fun to follow as the child geared tour was easy to understand. While sitting in one of the exhibits, one of the little kids walked straight up to Kris and stuck is tongue out at him. This made adam laugh, it was pretty wild. Kris is the dearest heart I have ever known, and like always, took it with a kind smile. our feet began to get tired....walked around a bit...found the jardin du luxembourg....sat in the sun, found an APC store, where I realized I now want to buy a cape instead of a parka.... found the oldest church in paris...st.germain du pres. adam and jill lit candles inside. and took more photos...took the train over to the other side of town to try to eat at a veggie place called piccolo, again, and it was closed again, so we got falaffels and frites instead. We got some tall boys on the way home, tried to film jill and kris reacting to 2 girls 1 cup, which didn't work out, then kris and i walked up to sacre coeur.....the steps were jam packed and the performer kept playing fine hits such as californication by the red hot chili peppers..we walked down past the deux moulins, talked and talked and came back up to the apartment to pass out. It's dreamy walking and talking with a person who can actually speak french, and to get a chance to hold hands in a city like this. Can I reiterate that I don't want to leave? i dreamt I didn't.