It was her pleasure to take a moment between batches of ironing to enjoy the street and take pride in her own stretch of sidewalk.
She felt that the Rue de la Goutte d'Or was hers, and the neighboring streets, and the whole neighborhood.

As she stood there, with her blonde hair slightly damp from the heat of the shop, she would look left and right, taking in the people, the buildings, and the sky.

To the left Rue de la Goutte d'Or was peaceful and almost empty, like a country town with women idling in their doorways.

While, to the right, only a short distance away, Rue des Poissonniers had a noisy throng of people and vehicles.
The stretch of gutter before her own shop became very important in her mind.

It was like a wide river which she longed to see neat and clean.
It was a lively river, colored by the dye shop with the most fanciful of hues which contrasted with the black mud beside it.
Then there were the shops: a large grocery with a display of dried fruits protected by mesh nets; a shop selling work clothes which had white tunics and blue smocks hanging before it with arms that waved at the slightest breeze.