NEEDLING

MORNING

My yearning for those croissant hasn’t entirely subsided yet, so I stepped outside this morning with the hope of having had an hallucination the other day. Though it’s already nine in the morning, the streets are barely waking up. Most the store fronts are still down… the old people who sit on benches, the men who stand on the median smoking cigars and remaking the world, the kids playing basketball or dealing hash, the little old ladies slowly making their way to the fish market or the various butcher shops… are all still asleep or brushing their teeth. Nice day in the neighborhood.

I take a left on rue de l’Orillon, reputed as one of the worst streets in the neighborhood second only to rue Ramponeau. The same street actually, the name changes after you cross the boulevard de Belleville. I’ve never had any problems, though, I think it’s a myth. I take a right on the boulevard and find myself once more staring at the baker’s shelves.

In front of the store are stacks of boxes. The baker is coming in and out of his store taking boxes in, giving orders, discussing politics, and talking on his mobile telephone. All kinds of delicious looking sweets all over the place, but no croissant or any other kind of viennoiseries or bread. They look busy so I don’t bother them with any silly questions. I cross the boulevard to another pâtissier and on the window is posted a little white paper with a stamp on it saying the store and the products it sales are certified by the Beth Din of Paris for the Pessa’h. I guess I’ll have to put my croissant craving on hold for a few days.