My love note: Sitting outside in the Saturday morning sunlight, enjoying the “petite dejuner” special here — a (top-notch) croissant, baguette with jam and beurre, orange juice and, for a $1 more, a cup of espresso — doesn’t make me feel like I’m in Paris, it makes me feel like I’m in a lively and congenial part of Philadelphia. I love the stately rowhome, painted in black, that perches catty-corner from the cafe. And I’m enticed by the glimpse of trees over Fitler Square down the block, where the umbrellas of its farmer’s market beckons. Eventually, lazily, I will myself to get up to explore the park’s offerings, and then, to wind my way back east.