the sun is like a large bienvenue sign in paris. the streets fill up with legs. a venti coffee cup. i wonder where they’ve been hiding all winter. clogging their flats with smoke, perhaps. millions of pursed lips around cigarettes. a terrible vice, a worse scent, but still they look so darn chic. and so now that the cold is making its exit, the frenchies (and tourists alike) make their entrance. and with my camera, I follow.
in three months i won’t be able to hop the ELBA to the city at my discretion. a terribly depressing thought. but until then, the state of bliss continues... as does the photo taker machine thing.
a week of photos:
pointy flats. versailles. fromage frais. time. the silence of the rodin garden --- like a hideaway in the center of chaos. small bookstores overflowing with pages. jay z’s empire state of mind. movie marathons. improbable love stories. men in hats. eating obscene amounts of broccoli. window shopping. having conversations with myself (in my head). watching people react to intense wind gusts. chloe/zac posen/derek lam. theory’s spring collection. mail (the real kind). the war against old age. comprehension. rekindled everything. the distinct scent of paris. refilling water bottles. daily bbm-ing with db1. telling gypsies to bugger off. jackets of moss around every forest tree. back up ipods. languages. swings. hot towels. subway musicians. the marais and the latin quarter.