Paris.

Paris. Magnificent, breath taking, expansive, amazing Paris.

Firstly, I went to the Eiffel Tower. I stood in the grass, looking up at the aged, prodigious structure. It’s unbelievable, you see it in postcards--but in person, it’s completely different, the size is mind blowing.

There’s something magical about Paris, the history is palpable. Walking along the river, staring at the amazing buildings and the looming trees--it’s arresting. Paris is feminine, exquisite, and mysterious.
I was walking down the Champs D’Elyssey when the rain started falling, I opened my umbrella and continued to stroll along the long avenue draped with trees-- I love the smell of the rain. When I reached the Louvre, I shut my eyes tight and reopened them again, just to be sure it was real. I then performed a happy dance on the inside.
Last night, we walked to Notre Dame--intricate and elegant, it’s white and lit up, a stark contrast against the blanket of night. Parisian teenagers were laughing and taking pictures of themselves jumping off the benches with Notre Dame in the background, couples were walking hand in hand, bestfriends were confiding in eachother, and I stood quietly, captivated, awed.
I don’t want to leave, ever. I envy the runners, whose feet push off streets that are hundreds of years old, and whose stretches are done staring at the Musee D’Orsay.

You’ll find me, years from now, enjoying a delicious Parisian pastry while writing my next book where Sartre once sat and contemplated life and existentialism. And that’s that.