Strolling through Paris successively takes us to the Jardin des Plantes where the gardeners mower lets bloom bunches explode then to the Daumesnil lake in Vincennes woods which is as always full of strollers and rowers and finally to the Père Lachaise cemetery where cracks invite beyond improvised ruins and neglected almosttemples as impossible windows and mirrors backs opened to the unfathomable chasm of parallel worlds