It is called “the red city”; after a few steps you understand why: most of the buildings are in brick. During the morning, or even in the evening, when a soft light scrambles the walls, you have the impression that the air is pink. And you continue to walk, faster and faster, in order to inhale as much as possible from this color.
I arrived Friday evening and I couldn’t help myself not to go out for a tour. Whenever I’m walking at night I have the impression that the scenes in front of me are not my real life, that they are fragments from a film that I’m watching. Toulouse is different, I’m not afraid…I’m not afraid to turn left on a little street that is not that well illuminated, I’m not afraid to eat on a bench with 2 SDF/ homeless people standing on another bench next to me, I’m not afraid to take off my camera and take some pictures of the town centre. Even if you can see all types of people in the street, everybody is quiet and minds his own business. And you realize that it’s a wonderful thing not to be afraid.
Saturday morning I turn on the hot water to take a shower and…I realize that the buildings are not the only reason why one calls
Attractions of the week-end: the old churches spread all over the city, a “marché de dimanche”, a contemporary art exhibition in the old “Abatoires”, the bank of the Garone that hosts a lot of young couples and families who enjoy a sunny autumn day, “Jardin des plantes” and the fall of yellow little leaves on us, like in a secret ritual.