My husband woke me out of a deep sleep Sunday morning at 7:00 (much too early for me on a Sunday morning) with promises of a cappucino and a croissant at my favorite French creperie. Of course that didn't come without a price. I had to walk first. All around town. In the quiet hour before the summer/festival/Sunday brunch crowds descend. What I did start to notice as I stole sips from his first latte on route and my eyes started to focus, was color. So many vivid splashes of color - hence chroma. Chroma is defined as:
intensity of distinctive hue; saturation of a color.
I love the contrasts between the brick and brick and flowers
And next to Provence blue doors, red are my favorite
It pays to look up
The color of apricots?
There's just so much going on here in this quiet little corner
One of our random public pianos
Even my perfectly cooked soft boiled egg and croissant on it's colorful plate was a joy
This is the French cafe's bathroom. The cafe itself is covered with bright murals and more color.
Even the train cars that rumbled by while we were eating were striking.
Are things always brighter in the morning? Maybe I should get up early more often.