There was a tiny square past little alleyways that we drew in Lyon. Dozens of illustrators lined the perimeter. Then the rain came. Very hard rain. Most ducked for cover under awnings of cafes and shops. Some hard core artists stayed, sketching in the rain, balancing portable umbrellas quite precariously. My friend Arnaud was one such nut. Not me. I did the best I could each time the downpours cleared. There was a moment of joy when everyone sang happy birthday to Arnaud. Champagne glasses were passed around for the toast. The bubbly was dry but we were all a bit damp.
