Postcards from Paris: {At the Market: familiarity in faces}

Portraits are my favorite. I suppose they can be placed under the activity category of people-watching.
Except I don't feel rude about staring.

So much can be assumed about a person just by looking at their face, and looking at a face who lived a completely different life than mine, during a period before the means of internet acces is all the more intriguing. Being back I felt comfort in seeing the faces who have remained since I left, more notably, the portraits hanging in the glass-paned dividers sectioning off the coffee bar. The familiarity found in their unknown faces was almost as comforting as seeing the regulars coming in to order their usuals.
I've taken many breaks sitting at that cafe table. Sometimes sipping on a rose seltzer or a coconut-spiked hot cocoa, whatever the weather permitted, I often found myself amused by the untouched expressions and up-kept apparel considering all the time that has past.
Along with the old, I've been getting to know some new faces around the shop that offer a similar sense from a time past. The collection of black and white photographs downstairs have a vague eeriness. Their faces seem slightly uncomfortable as they wait for the picture to be processed. There's more mystery in some photographs than in others. Some a bit more stoic, and some have managed to capture a smile.
All the same, they convey a curiosity that never ceases to fascinate me.

Bisous,
Reba