Today I saw a blond young woman of about 25, in expensive clothes, standing on a corner near the Bois de Boulogne with her fancy dog, waiting to cross the boulevard. In her hand was a large bouquet of long branches like this. I stared. There are no cherry blossoms for sale at any of the florists, and there are no florists anywhere near where she was standing. She had cut them down from a beautiful tree in the public park.
