dug 
As odd experiences go, this evening is pretty strange. I’m sitting on the roof of the pool I learned to swim in. The sun is setting on this capital city. A few streets away I can see the roof of centre court of a grand slam tennis stadium, and all around the tops of the city’s monuments are turning shades of orange and purple.
Charles Belmont: On a une magnifique errance dans Paris, un Paris des années 60 dont on reconnaît pas mal de choses maintenant, mais on n’a pas réussi à localiser, du point de vue du roman, des endroits précis. Évidement que ce n’est pas Paris, évidement que c’est la piscine Molitor, que des choses se passent à Neuilly, mais le roman n’est jamais très précis. Dans le film, on reconnaît des lieux…
When I used to come here with my family as a wee kid, this was a sports centre; a pool in summer and an ice-skating rink in winter. Today, the roof is a fancy bar filled with beautiful people making small talk and nibbling olives…
From my seat, I can see the roof of my childhood home. Part of the roof just pokes over a neighbouring building and I can see my parents bedroom window (they were on the top floor).
Sitting here, sipping a beer, this feels weird, strangely circular, but a little bit wonderful…
Building a boat from tree felling to launch in 7 years