(Disclaimer: I'm about to get all sappy about Paris. You've been warned!)
Today was my last day here in Paris - so I climbed the towers of Notre-Dame. It's become a sort of ritual for me, waiting for the perfect day and scaling the 387 steps that open up on the most glorious view of the city.
The first time I visited Paris, as a student in 2005, I decided to tackle the steps after a day of museum visits, sightseeing, and a long walk along the left bank from the Eiffel Tower. My feet were killing me, but I thought: Hey, I might never have this chance again.
As I mounted each step, worn smooth by thousands of weary feet before me, I became a part of the place - and it became a part of me. When I finally reached the summit, panting, and saw that view - all rooftops and blue skies and the murky green of the Seine - that's precisely when and where I fell in love with Paris. This place is my heart.
I come back to ascend those stairs and relive that moment every time I find myself in Paris. It's beautiful, and I've probably taken hundreds of pictures of the view, from every conceivable angle.
This time I only allowed myself one.
Because a picture can't truly capture the feeling of a moment in time. And a person can't adequately savor that moment when they're so encumbered by the need to document everything, to click the shutter and move on to the next thing.
Today was unseasonably warm with white-grey skies, the only color in the frame the green of the Seine and the trees below. The photo isn't great. It's really nothing special. But it doesn't matter. It was about the moment itself, and the gift of being present within it before it slipped away into history.
It's something I'll keep in my heart and in my memory forever - something just for me.
Today was my last day here in Paris - so I climbed the towers of Notre-Dame. It's become a sort of ritual for me, waiting for the perfect day and scaling the 387 steps that open up on the most glorious view of the city.
The first time I visited Paris, as a student in 2005, I decided to tackle the steps after a day of museum visits, sightseeing, and a long walk along the left bank from the Eiffel Tower. My feet were killing me, but I thought: Hey, I might never have this chance again.
As I mounted each step, worn smooth by thousands of weary feet before me, I became a part of the place - and it became a part of me. When I finally reached the summit, panting, and saw that view - all rooftops and blue skies and the murky green of the Seine - that's precisely when and where I fell in love with Paris. This place is my heart.
I come back to ascend those stairs and relive that moment every time I find myself in Paris. It's beautiful, and I've probably taken hundreds of pictures of the view, from every conceivable angle.
This time I only allowed myself one.
Because a picture can't truly capture the feeling of a moment in time. And a person can't adequately savor that moment when they're so encumbered by the need to document everything, to click the shutter and move on to the next thing.
Today was unseasonably warm with white-grey skies, the only color in the frame the green of the Seine and the trees below. The photo isn't great. It's really nothing special. But it doesn't matter. It was about the moment itself, and the gift of being present within it before it slipped away into history.
It's something I'll keep in my heart and in my memory forever - something just for me.