Walking distance to the Louvre

I can see the north star from my window. When I rolled in at 4:00 and 4:30 am each night this weekend, I could see about 10 stars from my window. I pulled the doors open and leaned on the railing to stretch my torso into the cool, soft fading night air. Right now my incense is burning, Citizen Cope is playing on my stereo, my delicates are spinning perhaps a bit too quickly in my washing machine, and I'm looking forward to sleeping on my soft, new brown pillowcases. I haven't been sleeping well, so I may have to resort to the Tylenol PM tonight. But I think I'm just too damned excited to go to sleep.
Today I met Karina for lunch. We sat in the sunlight on the crowded rue and ate fresh salads. Later, I walked into the Louvre courtyard, fountain in the middle, and crossed through the enormous square, though the tall gate to emerge in front of the famous glass pyramids. Apparently, if you pass through the courtyard at night, it's lit up and you can see the DaVinci's "Venus" in an upper window. I met Karina and Abbey for the Girodet exhibit. I knew nothing about him, but the exhibit was fascinating (it will be in Chicago from Feb.--April). I was drawn to a floor-to-ceiling painting called "Un scene de deluge" which he described not as "the" Noah's "deluge" (usually depicted with a flood) but of "a" deluge where the destructive forces of nature take man's life. The painting was of a man in a huge flowing cape pulling another man away from his woman and two children. The woman's arm was extended, the man trying desperately to hold on to it. Girodet gave an example of the disaster in Switzerland (I don't know which disaster it was at that time), but it reminded me of all the natural disasters waging death upon thousands of people within the past few months. And the most stunning painting, in my opinion, was a huge depiction of a priest pulling the torso of a woman wrapped in a white sheet with a cross around her neck and a crosss tucked into the top of her cloth. Her legs are being embraced by a "savage" man (you can see him in the picture here). Her name is Atala, a Christian, and he is a savage, yet they are in love. Because she took the Christian vow of chastity, yet she is in love with this man, she committs suicide. This neither allows her into heaven nor allows her to be with the man she loves. She has a content look on her face, and the man seems also at peace, while only the priest is scowling. Girodet's work is fascinating, and perhaps most intriuging is its symbolic relevance to many of the same topics and issues today...wow, and I'm barely brushing the surface.
It's going to be sunny and in the 60's again tomorrow. I think I'll take my book and my French to Les Halles and sit on the grass and just breath in the smell of the leaves which are starting to fall. Fall might be my favorite time in Paris.