I’ve heard Paris called the city of love my whole life. I’ve always assumed this was from the belief that it was a romantic place where couples walked along the Seine and cuddled under an umbrella in the rain. But as my second day here draws to a close what I’ve gleaned is that Paris is a city of love not because of just the romance but because the people are in love with small parts of their life that turns into a passion for familiar things- and makes the city alive with an inexplicable light.
Pariaians look at their cafe and morning crossaints with love. They ignore work, problems and spend a few minutes in love with their present.
If I’ve learning something in Paris, if Paris has changed me, it’s that I’ve sat at a few cafes, I’ve looked at the city, I’ve watched the sky, and been in love with my present.