Visits of varying lengths between 2 January and 7 April 2019
Although I have made my home these past two years anywhere I spend the night, Paris, like New York, is where I have my favorite places and can arrive there without a map. It is where I can spend time with people very dear to me.
Paris is where I wander aimlessly through ancient streets and wide boulevards, sit near the Medici Fountain, and stroll in the Jardin Luxembourg, browse books sold by the bouquinists along the Seine, ride a bicycle along the Canal Saint-Martin to the Bassin de la Villette in the north of Paris and watch men play petanque , see a film, and enjoy the undulating rhythms of the day while sitting at a cafe.
Public life in Paris reveals a medley of humanity in all ages and attires: groups of children, wearing brightly colored vests, guided by their attentive guardians, walk in pairs, hand-in-hand; dog owners patiently wait for their beloved pets, sometimes in colorful attire, to sniff; aged men and women push walkers a few centimeters at a time across streets while concerned bystanders stop the traffic; lovers of all ages kiss; tourists take selfies against iconic backdrops; riders navigate skillfully, and not so skillfully, bicycles and scooters through the streets; a well-dressed woman wearing gold high-heels steps out from her sleeping bag on the sidewalk where she presumably spent the night.
I never tire of the frequent beauty surrounding me in Paris, or become immune to its charm.