Hygge at Beau Marché
The wine were accompanied by books and old tin cans, each with their own stories. A part of me wanted to stay here for a very long time. Old black & white photographs were mixed with sepia-toned ones, none of them aligned with each other, eschewing the American sense for intense intentional order, and on the contrary satisfying the European sense of ordering for disorder. Disarray was quite ok, preferred actually. The music was incredibly pleasant with its warm notes only adding to the ambience and colour. This was the place where everyone who didn’t know your name knew your name. Continue reading Hygge at Beau Marché
Secret of My SucCecil 