Les Lauriers sont coupes..

Opening segment of Dujardin's Les Lauriers sont coupes, one of the loveliest openings for any book and more significantly the paragraph that inspired James Joyce to get into Stream of consciousness.

Evening light of sunset, air far away, deep skies; a ferment of crowds, noises, shadows; spaces stretched out endlessly; a listless evening.
And, from the chaos of appearance, in this time of all times, this place of places, amid the illusions of things self-begotten and self-conceived, one among others, one like the others yet distinct from them, the same and yet one more, from the infinity of possible lives, I arise.

So time and place come to a point; it is the now and here, this hour that is striking, and all around me life; the time and place, an April evening, Paris; an evening of bright sunset, a monotone of sound, white houses, foliage of shadows; a soft evening growing softer, and the joy of being oneself, of going one's way; streets, crowds and, in air far aloft, outstretched, the sky; Paris is singing all around me, and languorously composes in the mist of ended shapes a setting for my thought.

~ Edouard Dujardin, Les lauriers sont coupes , Translation: Stuart Gilbert

Its Paris, but not April though.