Statues have a particular draw for me.

I wonder if in 20 years I’ll look back on my pictures and wonder what the f I was thinking. Or if my grandchildren will glance at them one day and think, statues — how god damn boring.

Probably.

However, in the meantime, I can enjoy taking pictures of them. Imagining the hands who cast the molds, the details, the historical preservation, the people and personalities. The tales never to be told that are held within bronzed gazes.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve looked at this statue, situated perfectly front and center at the entrance to the Luxembourg Gardens {the one closest to Rue de Médicis}.

I adore him. I call him my jester. Maybe he really is a jester and I’m calling him that based on a loose recallation. I love the light shining through him. It literally looks like it’s beaming from the heavens.

And what about these lovely ladies? I wouldn’t mind being placed indefinitely in the Tuleries, with a good view of the Louvre. Yes, not a bad deal at all. Minus the bird shit and {acid rain} erosion.

These two absolutely kill me.

The one on the left reminds me of Posedian, meets Egyptian Goddess, meets freaky offspring. For a quick Delta shout out to any of ya’ll who remember the horrors of this rush song : “and here comes Posedian with his tri dent in hand, to lead the sister Deltas to the promised land … “.

And no, I didn’t actually sing it. Come on. Like I was going to sing gay ass sorority songs? As though I could have made it through one of those without laughing. It’s no wonder they wanted to kick me out.

Then the one on the left … makes me think of some weird S&M or sex fetish going on. Maybe because his junk is hanging out there and the way he’s grabbing that fish head, or whatever the hell it is … I think of some bad porn {not like I watch it or anything … me … porn?} … “OH yeah, you want some of THIS.”

Just when I didn’t think I had a fave, I caught this the other day.  It’s definitely my préférence du jour as of now. And really, what’s not to love about all aspects of this?

What is it that they say … sometimes you’re the pigeon and sometimes you’re the statue? Close enough.

Or maybe sometimes, you’re both.