I’m sorry. I just haven’t been able to bring myself to talk about Paris.
The experience was so overwhelming. Each time I’ve come to write, I’ve been at a loss of words.
That is what Paris does to a young lover.
It is a city that does not change…each piece remains steadfast through time. Walking through the city felt like I was trekking across memories embedded deep in my heart…
…here was the café in Saint Germain des Pres that I could sit and read for hours, this was the little road in Bastille that led the way home from school, that was the metro stop that tells the story of a tearful goodbye between two lovers.
I remembered immediately how easy it is to suffer, for Paris is not an easy city to live. In the winter, the frost bites at your nose and ears and fingers. Heavy rains pour upon your head in the spring. The spaces are so compact and small there is no room to stretch long legs. The Parisians wear their exhaustion plainly on their faces, there is so little time to rest for those who are young.
Is there any other reason to flee to Paris besides for love?
It is love makes the city so magical. Perhaps this is why the Parisians love so fiercely. In love, the heavy rains become a gentle melody. The grey skies are a silvery backdrop of a radiant day. There is unlimited inspiration and excitement.
Once my heart is ready to follow the tides of destiny, I will pack my bags and fling myself back across the universe into that storybook of a life. But this is real life and at this moment I am resting. waiting. hoping. planning. growing.
