Through a glass darkly, dreaming of the day when I could eat at the venerated Tour d’Argent.
“When I first knew the Tour D’Argent it was a plain place with a wooden floor covered with sawdust, but it was none the less a temple of gastronomy, for it was presided over by old Frédéric Delair who, with his high bald forehead, his steel-rimmed spectacles, and his whiskers, resembled Ibsen or Thackeray, and who, like Ibsen and Thackeray, was an artist, though in a different field.” (From Where Paris Dines, 1929)
Photo 101 challenge, day 17
© 2014 C. Bertelsen
5 thoughts on “Glass”
Most welcome! Really gorgeous.
It was one of those Yes! moments, if you now what I mean, Ellen.
Thanks, Lucile. I just walked by and there it was – the dream place setting, another form of advertising, I guess.
Amazing shot and I liked the story behind too.