Chapter 22
Parisian markets are so much more vibrant than I imagined, even in winter.
Esmé starts the tour by greeting a vendor standing behind a wall of tomatoes. Small, stacked baskets create a surprisingly effective presentation of red fruit masquerading as vegetables. She speaks to the vendor in French, then turns to the group to describe where he buys his tomatoes. Jennifer writes quickly in her notepad, while Desmond snaps photos on his phone.
I strain to hear how much Esmé’s English has improved, and whether she’s using words like ‘porridge’ and ‘beckoned’, or even ‘spittoon’. And I want to hear her stories, so I can tell them to François, or even Dictionary, and show them how Parisian I’ve become. They’d be impressed, I’m sure. I’m not going to be like the other American Books w
