Henry Miller in Paris, The Mean Streets of the Tropic of Cancer

by William Caverlee

Best not to look at the scenery: eight lanes of traffic, roaring motorcycles, flashing billboards, and steel-and-glass office buildings as hideous as those beside any freeway in Houston or Atlanta - overall, a depressing introduction to France. This was the bus ride from Charles de Gaulle airport into Paris; and, after a nine-hour flight in coach, I was composed of little more than grogginess, jet lag, and panic.

Eventually, the bus entered the center of Paris - finally, were buildings that I remembered, street names I recognized: Boulevard St. Germain, Luxembourg Gar...

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