Ils viennent jusque dans vos bras / They’re coming right into your arms
Égorger vos fils, vos compagnes! / To cut the throats of your sons, your women!
Aux armes, citoyens / To arms, citizens
Formez vos bataillons / Form your battalions
Marchons, marchons! / Let’s march, let’s march!
Qu’un sang impur / Let an impure blood
Abreuve nos sillons! / Soak our fields!
– “La Marseillaise”
Choppy Waters
PARIS – And so the old year ended…
La Closerie has been around for some time – and it seems it has always been popular.
The Closerie des Lilacs brasserie was packed. Every table was taken. On the corner of the Boulevard de Montparnasse and the Boulevard Saint-Michel, this was one of Hemingway’s favorite restaurants. It is now popular with tourists as well as locals.
Coming in, we heard familiar American accents behind us, but almost everyone else appeared to be native to the city. It was bright, the way brasseries are supposed to be…
“The way things are supposed to be” is our beat at the Diary. The way they really are is beyond us. Far too complex. Infinitely nuanced. Mind-blowingly intricate.
“Is,” as President Clinton noted, is too high a standard. “Ought to be” is the best we can do. Only the gods can know what is really going on. All we can do is to observe certain superficial patterns and rules – like waves on the surface of a deep sea – and wonder how they might slap against our little bark.
One observation: Markets bob up and down. Yes, dear reader, it is a new year… and we face new conditions. New challenges. New threats. But at least we know how the waves work… floating prices up one side and down the other.
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