of Beating Drums. ...Under a shady area right off the Metro Abbesses, but there were little sunspots shining through the openings of the leaves. I could not have made this discovery on my own. I was following a crowd. Oh French children: walking, talking, or drumming along. They charm me. This scene could have happened anywhere. But it was in Paris. Just after I had eaten a delicious fondant au chocolat with almonds, and just before a Spring thunderstorm; a well-appreciated sequence of events, on my behalf.