Wednesday 7 August 2013

Looking up

As you know, a week or so ago, I was in Lille, and in spite of my falling-down bathroom I still have things about Lille I want to write about. I love cities - and not just the obvious things, the cafes and museums and art galleries, the theatres, the general confusion of who is working and who simply enjoying themselves.

I love the corners, the bits we don't often look at, the alleyways (which often whiff a bit) and courtyards with the shock of bougainvillea falling down a staircase. And sometimes - I look up.

In Lille, I looked up, to find many wonderful attic windows which set me thinking: who lives up there?


This, I decide, is home to a poet. She works in a restaurant, and by the time she gets home her hands are raw from hours spent peeling vegetables or washing up but nothing can keep her from her poems. She plays with words all night, falling asleep when the cock crows and waking just in time to struggle back to work.


That little window, right at the top ... three student musicians live there. They have one stove, and no fire, so in the winter they must huddle together for their fingers are too cold even to play a trumpet. But in the summer, when the sun shines, sometimes they open the window and glorious music sweeps across the square below and passersby stop, listen, know that they are hearing something precious.



A young lawyer lives here. He pours over his books till his eyes ache. One day, he promises himself, he will earn enough to own this building, and then he will replace this dreadful modern glass with its ancient counterpart and the building will be at peace with itself again.


Look behind the windows - and onto the roof. That look-out tells a story more terrible than any fiction.

For this is Northern France.

13 comments:

  1. Your imaginings are lovely, Jo! I find that looking up brings more delights than ground level viewing at times and your images in both words and pictures here capture this perfectly. Beautiful. The idea of struggling musicians and waitresses makes me think of Victor Hugo's books. The people's writer, rather like Dickens in a way. Lille has a lovely eclectic mix of quite grand architecture and modest, but cute forgotten corners, doesn't it?

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    1. I often enjoy the forgotten corners much more than the big sites, Val! Sounds like you do, too.

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  2. In Leicester's City centre there are some beautiful buildings and I often stop and look up and I too always wonder who lives behind those windows. I especially love the sound of your students' garret.

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    1. One day I'll have to investigate Leicester. I used to go to the NSPCC centre and lead some training, but never made it into the city. One day ...

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  3. You and me both!! Looking 'up' you see so much more...when I go to London, I always travel on the top deck (front seat if I can bag it) and just enjoy the architecture of the Georgian and Victorian buildings as they pass by. We are so often 'groundlings' and miss the best bits. Lovely pics!!

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    1. Oh the top deck of the bus ... of yes, it's much more fun up there!

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  4. Lovely post Jo,it's good fun to look and make up stories about places.

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    1. Stories can grow from the strangest places, Anne - and isn't it fun finding them!!

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  5. Those ancient, textured homes seem full of stories to tell.

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    1. Yes, Karen - if only some of those walls could talk ... the secrets they could tell!

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  6. I love the way your imagination works - proof I am not the only mad woman about town. :-) Thank you for sharing with us, it looks very nice.

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    1. Thanks for dropping by, Maria - there's a whole army of mad women around here!

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  7. what a nice and writerly idea - to make up stories about the people who live behind the windows.

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