Ah, Toulouse… the rose-coloured stones announce the famous “fenetras” of rue du Taur; and, with a violet on each door, the Toulousains still welcome me, so that I can find my way again among the fragrances of Bigorre.
The Pink City calls for calm, from the Place du Capitole; and I realize, since dawn, I’ve been contemplating her, and I still admire her.
St Peter’s bridge spans across the flowing waters of the Garonne, and while the canal du Midi gives me its quaint cruise on a barge, I can feel the kind gaze of the dome over my hat.
My trip is coming to an end, I’m going home soon. But one thing is sure, I’m bringing back in my suitcase the wisdom, the sharing, the hues of the landscape, a small slice of croustade, this beautiful scented candle and my memories.