Louvre

I don’t like Louvre, and yet I have been to Louvre many times. But for me it is and stays a supermarket, millions of things but no sensitivity. I love small museums where you get into the universe of an artist, my favorite one being the Chagall museum in Nice. And if I am in the mood for kitch, there is my own museum at my parents’ house, their living room full of my paintings (just because my parents were poor people and couldn’t afford to buy any art).

But as I am Panglos, I find something good in everything. Louvre is also good for something, it is a perfect alibi. It is so big that you could never find someone in there. You can always tell your jealous boyfriend that you are going to spend the Sunday in Louvre with a girlfriend. Your jealous boyfriend would also go to Louvre in hope of finding you, which is of course impossible. The boyfriend safe in Louvre, you can go to Montmartre to meet your lover instead, and there is no risk you would pop into your boyfriend by accident.

Give me a problem I cannot solve (or give me a simple life I can make complicated)!