...a layer of dust.

I love a city with good (to me anyway) public art. I truly like Philadelphia for it's art. New York City takes care with its art in Central Park. Amsterdam is a cherished place (I love the architecture there and because this is my blog I will call that public art too). I like Lancaster, PA because I am a sucker for 'turn of the century' brick buildings. London has some very impressive sculptures and monuments. Cairo doesn't have much but it is exotic and I like it there. But, Paris has ART. Sculptures everywhere for your eyes to feast on. Oh I forgot Washington, DC. Poor Capital (or is it Capitol?) she's a grand city with some very impressive public art.
But, Paris has ART...There is art on the way to the Metro...At the end of the pavilion that houses that flower market...On the side of a building...As you stroll through the park (by the way, there was some guide book that I read that said that Paris did not have many public parks, they were wrong!)...On the way to the restaurant supply store...And yet another park that Paris supposedly does not have...
If you look up you might find this...I am an aesthetic person. I like my surrounding to please my eye. I love Lopez for that reason. I could ride around Lopez everyday of my life and never get bored with the scenery. I have a favorite hill just above the library that when you are at the top you can see Fisherman Bay and beyond into the Sound. I love that view. I think that I could walk Paris for everyday of my life and never get bored with the aesthetic details of that city.
So why doesn't my house feel like an aesthetic paradise? Why is there always a pile of stuff (junk) somewhere on a porch or in the yard? Why does the inside always look like a whirlwind of dishes and chaos.
I guess it is because I am out there wandering the streets of the world with my mind elsewhere feeling the weather all the while my vacuum accumulates nothing but a layer of dust.