Often Mr. Spitzweg goes for a walk at random, on Saturdays, on Sunday mornings, that smell of roast chicken which will be followed in the afternoon by so many family walks, so much melancholy! But he also likes not really knowing where he is, strolling the anonymity of the outer boulevards, then taking a radial and suddenly plunging into the atmosphere of a neighborhood. Love Paris. Loving loneliness. To be a viewer, and not a gaze. This is the life of Arnold Spitzweg.