Images and text are copyright to Chris Wormald and may only be used with written permission after a fee has been negotiated.
Nine miles from the very rural location of my little Normandy hovel, is a station where every other train from seaside Granville stops on its way to Montparnasse in central Paris.
From the riverine, hilly, cow dotted landscape of the beautiful Suisse Normande; where the passage of time is marked by another roof collapse on a long deserted cowshed or barn, or another village bar/auberge closing its doors forever, one is swept effortlessly and comfortably for just over three hours, into one of the most beautiful and exciting cities in Europe.
Sophisticated, well groomed, men and women hurry along wide boulevards or sit outside bars and cafes smoking and drinking their petit cafe and tourists from around the globe take in the sights whilst trying to avoid being hit by Parisian drivers, who are careless of any dent an unfortunate tourist may make in their BMWs while being run down.
It is like a long walk through the sets of one’s favourite French films; any moment Juliette Binoche may hurry towards the Pont Neuf, or be seen dipping a sugar lump into her coffee, watching intently as the white sugar changes to brown. And was that Henri Cartier Bresson waiting in the doorway for a decisive moment, or Atget walking down the street carrying a large wooden tripod, past all those galleries.
What greater fun can a photographer have, when Paris is only three hours away?