1 min read

The Bubbling Brook at Berthelot

An ode to the little park beside my office

I'm currently seated on a bench in the park beside my office. I go here once in a while to unload my thoughts during lunch break. It's just a simple park: nothing too pretentious about a few benches and unmanicured patches of grass. On top of these, *la Tiretaine*, the regional river cuts through it, so I get to hear the soothing sounds of rushing water. A small bridge hangs over it, adding to the quaint charm of the place, even though I rarely see people pass through it.

This city has a lot of green spaces, but this is by far my favorite, it being tucked away from the bustling roads and noisy crowds. Then again, I live in one of the least urban places in France, so places like these are not few and far between. But being in a landlocked region, having some form of moving waters makes it feel homier. After all, having grown up in an archipelago, I'm very much used to living in the proximity of rivers, lakes, and the sea. So hearing the familiar sound of water bubbling and tumbling over rocks gives me a glimpse of home.

Filed under

Related Posts

Ode to a Parisian Governor's Wife

My First Winter

The Transcontinental Year

In the Foyer of Reveries

Autumn's Arrival