Striking in France

I have a love/hate relationship with la grève.



She's a new and old friend; she's new in that I don't know her very well -- and old that I know her all too well.
She gives by taking.
She gives me time by taking away work.

During the gracious moments when she is around,
I find myself walking along the corniche.

Watching fisherman as they are unaffected by her presence.



Or mothers watching their toddler's steps closely.



And gypsies as they sell their resonant souls on the street.