That Paris is the most romantic city in the world is a great lie. But that doesn’t make the city any less great. People here don’t give a shit what you think of them. Lots of people say that about themselves but it’s not true. When you have a city of people who don’t give a shit, you get a city of dog poop and it’s c’est manifique!

Yes, I definitely feel like a tourist, but half of the city is people like me so I’m right at home.

One little guy is waiting for us back home and I wish he knew that we miss him as much as he misses us. We’ve taken many pictures of his French friends.

Stevie General Store will be closed until 10th September. Until then!

Good morning Sunday! Moss is both ugly and beautiful.

Will someone (ever) buy this card for his Valentine?

We’ll be closed for two weeks to watch birds somewhere far away. The first day is Monday, 23rd August!

Come to see us before then, or wait for us to bring back more wood, tin, ceramic, brass, silver, toys, books…

Inner leanings.

You cannot tell but Godzilla is as tall as my thighs… his tail is fierce!

Stevie General Store now (also) sells nail color. The peel-off kind. In BRIGHT NEON colors. Available nowhere on our ape-alien planet but at 93 Club Street!!! (I mean color your nails so that they can be peeled off.)

yeeeoo…oow

Tonight I watched The Secret Life of Bees. Today I also wrote a note to my cousin. She’s warded in hospital for anorexia and I wish I knew how to open up her fourteen year-old heart. She’s like your regular teen, except she has an exceptional mother, loving her more than life itself. The note started off with: In life there must be balance… Somewhere along the lines I knew I have lost something, because my words did not match the way my heart understands. The words lived somewhere outside the world of my heart. I wish I just told her that love must and can be taught. But she would misunderstand (did you?). Just like it’s hard for me to say that to someone who has not felt the need to be taught love. This need, I think, is more than merely giving someone life. Life without love is like life without knowing how to love is life without love knowing life… That’s why I am writing these words, for words like sleeping bats in tunnels lie.

That’s why I still do not sell seashells at the seashore…

I have 4 vintage wind-up tin robots I am willing to part with. I am growing up.

But I may regret growing up. At least Mary Snead kept a scrapebook. Which have traveled to my hands. Which, too, will sell.

Did you?

A musical kaleidoscope anyone? Mono Lisa and almost the real thing anyone? Make your own sailboat anyone?

Preoccupation anyone?

When birds fly over the sky or in my head
I think of where and when
This has become my river -
If each weed a drop
I gather them all
Until there is no bank for the water to rise.

The current plays me over
And knee deep I keep looking.

Have you ever worn a brooch that is musical?

Have you ever worn a bangle that is part of a dense tropical tree trunk?

Have you stopped wearing sunglasses that cover more than half your face?

Bright nights. Queer likes.