Water knows all the secrets of the capital. It is his soul and his re-memory storage. His breadcrumb. It is the eternal accomplice of its landscapes, its lights, its imagery and its instantaneous, booksellers, docks, sunbathing along the Tuileries on a summer day, the tireless bateauxmouches passages, the voices Arletty lock on the Canal Saint-Martin, the sweet intoxication of Apollinaire in the Mirabeau bridge ..
Slipping quietly at the foot of Notre Dame, spinning between the palace, defying the Eiffel Tower, the Seine Her Majesty orchestra magic. Everything was ordered on both sides of the graceful curve that draws on 13 km. Right bank, left bank: no other major European city is not defined at this point based on its river, up to the distances and numbers of streets derived from the banks.
