Midday in Paris
During several moments today in my beautiful walk through MontMartre , I felt one with the city of Paris. Somewhere in the middle of my town guide’s story on Van Gogh, my mind started wondering what he must have felt like pouring his anxiety onto canvas to paint beautiful Parisian rooftops . Or how Madame Dalida , who I knew nothing about prior to my visit, must have felt coming up as an artiste in a time when women were scorned for being ‘too much’ in the public eye. Looking in these beautiful Hausmanian houses, I started wondering how it must feel like living in Paris. Breathing it in daily. Sitting in the balcony with your cat and peering down onto hordes of tourists getting amazed by this place you now call home. Riding beautiful old cycles you inherited from your parents through cobbled streets that feel preserved like I have preserved some of my happiest memories over time. 12 years ago, I wrote a silly blog post romanticizing Paris (and living in the past) after I watched Midnig
