Paris Photographer – Louis Paulin

The red-headed woman was tired, since it had been a long day, and it was very late now, she hadn’t seen her friendly two gargoyles, which was rather sad, but as she was about to turn in, she saw them.

She motioned a hand from her little balcony as the two gargoyles circled and landed; she thought how graceful they were – always on the move, and very mobile considering what they were, although only very privileged people would see one moving, never mind two.

Both of them grinned, then one of them said, ‘let’s get a photo quickly, all of us, say cheese,’ – and a moment later they all crowded together on that rather new smartphone, ‘that’s nice, and don’t forget some suitable hashtags.’

‘So did you? I mean that daring heist in the Louvre,’ asked the red-headed woman to the two of them; – they both grimaced and said at the same time, ‘if only… imagine that, but no, not us.’

‘Well, I guess you wouldn’t have done a photo just now, know of course not, you would be hiding, wouldn’t you,’ – ‘correct,’ said one of them, and continued, ‘but there might be a reward, and that would be good, wouldn’t it, don’t we think?’

‘We have also had a few good thoughts about that,’ said the two gargoyles, ‘you see, we have been trailing several leads, including that Inspector Clouseau, and also a couple of clever animals – a cat and a panda; what do you think about that?’

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Paris Photographer – Louis Paulin

The red-headed woman had been in various places in France, enjoying the cafes and vineyards, and also managed to get a bit of money on the side, since she had to earn a living in some way or another – a hustle here and a hustle there, but at least her lovely ruby red ring had been fixed.

She was so happy to draw up in her little red car to look up to see her attic apartment in Paris; she parked her car several streets away and hurried to buy some things.

She went to the nearest small supermarket, threaded her way to the counter where she would find a few things to keep her going – a baguette and a squishy cheese and a carton of fava beans which she would cook with some butter and garlic, very tasty.

She walked up to the top floor, unlocking her door, dumped her big bag on the table, then opened her double French doors, how lovely to be home; she had idly thought about the two gargoyles since she always enjoyed their company.

She had been perusing on her smartphone to see what had been going on over those last few months and, of course, the main story had grabbed her the most had been the Louvre Museum in that amazing dare-devil heist and all those gorgeous jewellery stolen, almost to order, she’d thought; could it have been the two gargoyles who had a hand in that heist?

But surely not!

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