Road to Elsewhere, Excerpt #34: Naked Architecture, by the Seine in Paris

She was semi-nude, and I crossed the river for a look-see.

My friend Seamus was my ally in time-denial, in Paris. 

He was a young man of many appetites and a success at slaking them, while my Puritan yips inclined me mostly toward delay and terror. 

Which calls to mind another erotic encounter on the streets of Paris. Typically for me, it occurred at a safe distance. I was walking along the quays along the Seine when my eyes and other parts pricked up. Are those naked breasts, gleaming like ripe fruit in the sun. Yes, they were! 

Only in Paris do women sunbathe half naked, with millions of curious eyeballs swiveling around them. Naturally I crossed the river, for a better look.

Of course they were disappointing, as reality often is, compared with fantasy. They were losing their firmness, along with the mystery they lost through frank exposure. Yes, of course. But before my voyeurism was satisfied, I was forced to wait several minutes and pretend to look out over the city. The Pantheon, L'Institut, Hotel de Ville—all with domed and bulbous tribute…