Snapping Away at the World

I used to be a bit embarrassed about pulling out my little camera and snapping away at anything that caught my eye.  Wouldn't want anyone to think I'm a tourist, would I?  Now it never even crosses my mind.  How to resist trying to capture the momentary light slanting across that building front as one bank of cloud moves away and before the next covers the sun? 

How can you not record the sudden appearance of this icon when you turn around and find her looming at the end of the street?  And when the need to buy train tickets takes you to the Gare de Lyon, how not to take pictures of Le Train Bleu, the bar where you have a coffee?

What remains difficult is taking pictures of people.  Easy enough when they're turned away or so occupied in doing something that they don't notice, like these musicians playing in Place Colette, just in front of the Comèdie Française,

or this young flutist mesmerizing his little audience under the arcades of the Place des Vosges,

but I'm not yet quick enough nor confident enough to shoot the fast-moving long-legged young women dressed all in black who are here for Fashion Week, or the older man impeccably dressed in a tan coat over a yellow vest and red patterned scarf around his neck, hat turned just so, and an unlit pipe in his mouth.

But I'm working on it.  I wasn't quick enough to get this intense young reader coming, but I caught him going.