The soul of old objects inhabits new parks. We visit the Parc de Bercy—past Le Jardin J. Joyce, and over Le Pont S. de Beauvoir. Everyone is taking their leisure in the sun, and why not? We pass by the woods with black and green bark and people in shadows; we pass the formal hedges with benches all around. Then, the pure-visual sensation of purple and pink: the pink is stout along the ground, the purple is aspirant, rising higher. They are planted in what looks like free form, but deceptively. Really the beds are shaped to a generous curve like the back of a Christian fish (which meets its underside over the way). What do we need paintings for when we have gardens? I suppose so we may pay our respects to colour and light. So we may study, multiply, the good of sensation!