summed the city up in one line;
“Paris is beautiful – just LOOK UP!”
From the cobblestone streets, to the footpaths, all you will see if you look down,
is urine, spit, and the odd passed out soul. In the tourist hot spots, you will find
Gypsies with their mysterious eyes, shoving petitions in your face while asking
for money in support of their false cause.
But I beg you to look up. Sit at a cafe and do what the French do best –
people watch. Watch the locals rush to work, or meet friends for croissants
and coffee. Watch the tourists navigate the alleys, map in hand, camera on
neck, passing once, twice, thrice.
Watch the cars and scooters weaving their way to their destinations with road
rules no licence could prepare you for.
Look up and appreciate the small things – curtains blowing in someone’s
apartment. Is that their study area? Is it a studio? Is there a wallowing artist
inside, drawing inspiration from the very person gazing up at his curtains?
Flower baskets hanging from kitchen windows. Crooked balconies and
gargoyles on otherwise mundane office buildings.
The tip of the eiffel tower – leave all the crowds down low and gaze up high.
The Notre Dame bell towers. The sheer scale of The Louvre.
Look up, and you will ‘get it’.
Pete and I are forever lost here. Lost of a beautiful kind. Lost in the
architecture and the food. Lost in the tiny cafes and hidden bars.
Lost in each other: Lost in love.