The flaneur

Is the flaneur now an extinct species? That fin de siècle Parisian man, ( always Parisian, always male) who saunters about town observing society; it might be called idle, and many would berate the uselessness inherent in such an occupation, if that's what it is. But there's something marvellous in the fact of having time to watch and observe.

Even in Paris, I should imagine that the city is marked now by hurrying people, all in pursuit of making a living, all caught up in the need to be fast and direct from A to B. And all looking at their phones, or making calls. Requiescat the flaneur, with time on his hands, and nothing better to do than stroll, saunter along, observing. A café call here, a bit of a stroll, with no object in mind but to watch, a short time seated on a bench, and then more strolling.

I've painted it in sympathetic colours; the backdrop it needs is an elegant city, summer weather, an income and time to allow the strolling to take place. And maybe today's world has squeezed all that, with its almost moral imperative to hurry, its indoor life huddled round the 'home entertainment centre', its life in cars, taxis, metros, trains, buses.

I come back to this; W. H. Davies' poem 'Leisure';

What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.
No time to stand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as sheep or cows.
No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.
No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night.
No time to turn at Beauty's glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance.
No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began.
A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

Not quite the flaneur, but close cousin. And...... breathe...… and see..... and...…..