http://www.millerwalks.com/content/public-urinals Wed, 14 Dec 2011 19:07:23 +0000 hourly 1 http://wordpress.org/?v=3.3.1 http://www.millerwalks.com/content/public-urinals#comment-15 bob Wed, 30 Nov -0001 00:00:00 +0000 http://www.millerwalks.com/content/public-urinals#comment-15 wow amazing. totally stoked to see this man WOW wow amazing. totally stoked to see this man
WOW

]]> http://www.millerwalks.com/content/public-urinals#comment-16 Mike Jones Wed, 30 Nov -0001 00:00:00 +0000 http://www.millerwalks.com/content/public-urinals#comment-16 How a urinal can be imbued with a sense of nostalgia is beyond me, but looking at the photographs that exist of them I feel that this is exactly what they impart. And I think that if there is anything in Paris that was a testament to a departed age, it is these monoliths that once lined their byways. My only disappointment of course is that they have departed from the streets, and as I look at the pictures of them I also envy the people that saw and were able to use them. The people who read this who are drinkers of beer will know how it is when, having partaken of vast amounts and they are casually walking along a boulevard, the all too encompassing and agonising urge to relieve oneself suddenly takes prescience over everything. And the amount of time I have had to run into a brasserie with and without asking for the pleasure of the convenience I cannot now recount, but that a certain sense of pleasure seems to pervade this act is without a doubt. But unhappily we are now only left with the Pissotieres that dominate Brassai's and Atget's photographs, and that we can only visualise by regarding the very spots that they inhabited. But I do believe there is one standing on the Boulevard Arago opposite the prison Sante, and one that a quick look on the internet will bring results, but whether it is still standing I don't know. How a urinal can be imbued with a sense of nostalgia is beyond me, but looking at the photographs that exist of them I feel that this is exactly what they impart. And I think that if there is anything in Paris that was a testament to a departed age, it is these monoliths that once lined their byways. My only disappointment of course is that they have departed from the streets, and as I look at the pictures of them I also envy the people that saw and were able to use them. The people who read this who are drinkers of beer will know how it is when, having partaken of vast amounts and they are casually walking along a boulevard, the all too encompassing and agonising urge to relieve oneself suddenly takes prescience over everything. And the amount of time I have had to run into a brasserie with and without asking for the pleasure of the convenience I cannot now recount, but that a certain sense of pleasure seems to pervade this act is without a doubt. But unhappily we are now only left with the Pissotieres that dominate Brassai’s and Atget’s photographs, and that we can only visualise by regarding the very spots that they inhabited. But I do believe there is one standing on the Boulevard Arago opposite the prison Sante, and one that a quick look on the internet will bring results, but whether it is still standing I don’t know.

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