Building No 24

Would you enter this hair salon?
I think I would not.
It is maybe some sort of time/space portal; once in there you would be strapped to a leatherette seat, one of those giant egg-shaped hair dryers from 60s movies clamped to your head, and that would be it: flung into a Stanley Kubrick film, walking about in pale beige leggings, serving trays of dehydrated pizza to a soundtrack of 'The Blue Danube'.
I like the way the building inhabits its footprint on this piece of Carcassonne soil: a long, lone brick of pink 'crepi' with a snarling mouth of 'grillage'. What about the window though? Surely if you bother to drag that metal across the door, why not the other bits of glass?

Building No 5

I discovered this cyclopic, celebration of crepi while turning the car round in a back street of  Carcassonne. For those who don't know of this material, 'crepi' is a porridge/Artex-like substance that covers a large proportion of France. I was stunned by the varying shades of dismal grey-ness, the fabulous curvature of the structure, the sheer . . . wideness of it.

Opposite was a large boat, trapped in someones back garden, smashed up against their house, as if left by some retreating Tsunami.