If New York was where I found myself, Paris was where I fell in love.
I found an old post that revealed that a spring trip to Paris was one of the first things that I had felt comfortable writing openly about. I had taken in so much that I fell in love with my mind’s ability to know how to appropriately file each emotion for me between pictures and words.
Like New York, there is always something to capture in Paris. In New York, we tend to feel that everything is attainable, if we work hard enough. Even when one walks down Park Avenue, one can’t deny that it does seem possible to imagine oneself’s strolling out of a lavish doorman building and into a chauffeured car… maybe, someday…
But in Paris, the sensation is quite different. I was surrounded by things that I could never own. I came to understand that Paris is to be marveled at for its existence not our obtainment of it. It comforted me to feel that way. It was refreshing to not want to own it all and to be happy to just take the piece of it that was meant for me in my notebook or camera.
We should think about that as the weekend rolls in. Lets marvel at existence, not ownership. This world is not ours to own, it’s for us to enjoy and even then, I think we have a hard time getting that right.
Lets remember to marvel at the world, but most importantly, may we find ways to marvel at ourselves. There is something there in each of us to fall for.
It’s your job to find it, chéri.