Here’s the story: it’s the summer and I’m walking down the Boulevard St. Jacques, Leica in hand. Boulevard St. Jacques is one of the oldest streets in the city. It was the ancient heart of Roman Paris, Lutetia, and after that, medieval Paris. I see this small black mini coming towards me. There are a lot of people in the car, it looks like it might be interesting. I raise the camera to my eye, click. I don’t wait, and I don’t think.
Then, a week or so later in the negative I see this: the front of the black car is exactly at the edge of the old white wall of the Observatoire, directly underneath a wreath marking where a resistance fighter died during the liberation of Paris. On the other side, the black railings of the Jardin de l’Observatoire. Black, white, black.