Le heat, c’est freak

Today, Monday, was a hot day. 37 degrees Celsius, which is about 98.8 degrees Fahrenheit. I actually can’t tell if it’s humid or dry. It’s almost 10 o’clock at night now, and it’s still about 88 degrees. There is a wind blowing through Parc Monceau, but it’s a summer wind, mostly just moving air with only the faintest of cool draughts in its wake.

Unfortunately, the park whistle-blowers are sounding the alert that it’s time to leave. Technically, I still have 7 more minutes to sit on this green bench, and none of the others in the park – the runners, the loungers, the idlers, the picnickers – seem to be making any moves toward the exists.

The sun has probably just set and the evening birds are cooing and twittering softly in the trees overhead. In front of me I can see the grapefruit colored sky fading behind the apartments on Boulevard Courcelles. The cool air is finally descending, though I’m still a bit sticky in my white cotton shift.

Closing time.