Long hallways and grand rooms with giant windows that are covered by thick curtains. The windows are often covered, casting the opulent interiors into the shadows. As the revolution cast the ruling class who needed these ornaments into a lesser existence.
The gardens as well, which stretch for miles, are covered in such lush arrangements of trees that the mid-day sun could be turned into a minor inconvenience. It’s as if having this amount of solitude and control over your environment can warp your view of the people living around and under you.
Fountains and gardens once only enjoyed by a few are now open parks, traversed by anyone and everyone that can make it to its gates. Being to able walk the grounds with a bottle of wine and watching tourists taking pictures of the rowing teams practicing in the Grand Canal seems like the biggest ‘fuck you’ the people of France could ever deliver to the former monarchy.
A ‘fuck you’ that is subject to park hours, however.
Basically: A bunch of rich dudes got 86’d and now there’s a park.
