when i went to paris in the year of our lord i was fascinated by these apartment door bells. they’re out on the street, you can touch them, i felt like pressing one of them just to see what would happen. would an awkward conversation ensue, en broken français, would s/he shout abuse at me, would s/he invite me up for a cup of chamomile tea?
nice to know that the advertising vultures of paris have seized on what i think was so obviously cool to sell rue du faubourg saint-honoré to the masses.
Divagyrations 