We went to the Clockmaker's window to find out his hours. Through the glass store front we saw him way in the back of the store, a light shinning on his head and hands.There was no door. A note told us to knock on the window. Which we did shyly. The second time with a little more boldness. A small man dressed in black roused himself from his work and crossed the store momentarily disappearing from view only to reappear at a non-discript side door, whose entrance he blocked with his small frame, but formidable personality. We didn't realize until later that the content of my project would be intriguing enough to qualify as a password into his atelier...behinnd the glass window. Somehow all very mysterious, in an ancient guide sort of way. He said he would give it some thought once I send him some drawings. But he went on to caution me that he had a backlog of about two years. I said, "Fine" Now M. Franklin from Boulder said to me that sometimes things can be taken as an ivitation to investigate. I was intrigued by the title of the store, "L'Horloger de Saint Paul". When I looked it up on the internet, I found out that it was the title of a 1974 French film, that took place in Lyon. The clockmaker of the film finds out that his son is involved in some shady business, even murder. I began to wonder was there a connection between the new clockmaker and the movie. He said good bye in such a strange manner. More later.
Kent