Into pieces
Шрифт:
Short story #2. Le macaron.
There was a small bakery on the crossing of two winding Parisian streets. The windows of this cafe looked out at the wonderful park with the pond, covered with December snow, and several regular alleys of straight trees. There were only five round tables in the bakery and only three workers: one cook, one cleaner and one good-natured elderly woman, who carried out the duties of house-keeper, manager and waitress at the same time. By the way, July had been living in Paris for three years, after her leaving from Canada. She was fond of French culture and art, that’s why she started working as an arts critic in a small museum, and published one scandalous book about Claude Lorrain, in which July changed her real name for pseudonym. It was the right decision, because no one paid attention to this book, and only the members of Writers’ Union at regular intervals criticize her amazing manuscript. However, such consequences hadn’t changed July’s plans to publish the trilogy devoted to oil painting. So, every evening after her work the girl was sitting in the cozy bakery near the park and writing her next book.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.