Late in the month of May I found myself in Paris again, soaking up that particular sense of poise and the delicate beauty that are so utterly pervasive there. Paris holds a special place in my heart, in part because of the people I’ve been lucky enough to share it with. As such, I feel absurdly fortunate to have been able to see my favorite petite parisiennes on this most recent visit, one of whom was celebrating her second birthday. Nothing could have warmed my heart more.
I find that there are some aches of the missing variety that are so deep, so quiet, so persistent, that they’re hard to consciously identify; it’s just an oddly unsettled feeling as I make coffee in the early morning, or a something or another I can’t put my finger on when I repeat a habit that no longer has any function, but which feels so necessary. These aches continues spiking and diving, fluctuating just below the skin on my wrist like a pulse of the metaphorical heart, until, with one flying leap of a hug, the ache is gone. This was one of those moments.
view from our Les Halles nook
dans le marais
croque mmmmonsieur
mes amies!
