By now, you probably know how deeply in love I am with Paris. I mean, I created a blog dedicated to it. How any more obvious can I get?
Read through the posts on this site and you can piece together all the different ways I and all of the Parisphiles I’ve interviewed adore it.
But sometimes, the way this city makes us – me – fall in love with it more is hidden in the little things, the little ways.
In the way the leaves are arranged on its cobblestone streets during Fall.
In the way the light hits its buildings – graceful, comforting, inspiring.
In the way that every time it turns its lights on at night, I still get mesmerized.
In the way that rain can often feel like the best thing ever.
In the way that colors show their realness here. Orange is orange. Red is red. Purple is purple.
In the way that colors gain new meaning here. Orange is Jardin du Luxembourg. Purple is Tuileries. Yellow is Rue du Cherche-Midi. Gold is Saint-Germain.
In the way that the Metro smells like a combination of burnt rubber, steel, unwashed hair, two-day-old baths. My favorite scent.
In the way that beauty feels deeper than it is usually defined.
In the way that struggling with French and then gaining the warmth of people around me because of it makes me appreciate struggling with French more.
In the way that passing by fromageries is a daily thing.
In the way that me-time is as fulfilling, enjoyable and satisfying as time with friends.
In the way that everyone greets “bonjour” in the morning.
In the way that my name is said here – I can’t even say it properly because of the R.
In the way that all these chairs are scattered all around les jardins, always inviting me to sit down and smell the flowers.
In the way that sometimes the only plan I have for the day is to go to Le Jardin du Luxembourg, sit down, feel the cool breeze around me, feel a bit of sun on my face, people-watch, smile and thank God I am in Paris.
In the way that I have to constantly struggle going up the stairs with my plastic bags after every grocery run, the though of munching on that fresh round of camembert being my sole motivation.
In the way that every little thing, every single mundane thing around me becomes the most sublime thing.
In the way that waking up in this city always makes me feel so thankful that I am alive; that I exist and that I am where I am in that very moment.
In the way that walking around this city – just honest-to-goodness walking – makes me see more, hear more, taste more, feel more, live more, fall in love with more.
In the way that I can go on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on.
In the way that this film captures it:
LoveStories – Chapter One, Bo.
Oh Paris, je t’aime.
35mm photos by Rio Jorolan.