A and I went to the Marché de la Poésie. It's a book fair at Saint-Sulpice (in front of Saint-Sulpice, the church in this photo-- it's currently most famous for its role in The Da Vinci Code) and was mostly books in French. I was just after poetry, poetry in a book; but most of the books for sale were exquisitely produced works of art, with prices to match. So we left without buying anything. We did talk to a number of depressed-looking poets and publishers sitting at lonely tables piled high, who all tried to get us to leave our names and address. It was enough to make you vow not to be a poet. Maybe the happier ones were at the very lively wine bar. We did get a few bookmarks and a postcard.