Summary

Strolling through Paris successively takes us to the Jardin des Plantes where the gardener's mower lets bloom bunches explode; then to the Daumesnil lake in Vincenne's woods which is as always full of strollers and rowers; and finally to the Père Lachaise cemetery where cracks invite beyond improvised ruins and neglected almost-temples as impossible windows and mirrors' backs opened to the unfathomable chasm of parallel worlds...