I opened the window of our room and climbed out onto the wall, using the short shelf as a narrow balcony. I had to lean out over the railing to see up the street, as the hotel was situated on a bend in the road. In either direction, there was very little to observe, other than the locked-up sex shops and a few people pacing across the cobblestones, carrying baguettes or fruit, on their way to their own tiny apartments to enjoy a coffee and their Sunday paper. The sky coated the world with a thin gloss of solemnity, and the echoes of another raucous night in the 18th Arrondissement had long subsided...

- p.83, The Diary of Red Paris