There was always people infront of the Centre Pompidou, no matter the hour. It was an eclectic mix of young kids, to lovers, to homeless people, to cops. I never had the desire to sit with them in this strange concrete field, staring up at an inside out modern museum with strange tube like escalators that made you feel as if you were entering space.
The first night I went to the Centre Pompidou to hang out, I met up with my two friends Seth and Sandy and we split a bottle of Christmas wine drinking it straight from the neck. Luckily at dinner, the bartender was kind enough to uncork the bottle for us. He took a wiff from the top to judge us according to our wine choice and I think he was pleased cause he smiled at me when he gave me the bottle back.
All we had was the bottle and a bar of praline chocolate and each other. It was cold, but we were a bit full from dinner, and we had each other and our conversations.
We discussed events of the week past, and our mutual friends and our strangest stories from before we met each other.
All around us were strangers, sitting together infront of this place. To any outsider it must have looked bizzare, but I think thats how all great things start out.
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