PARIS, JE T'AIME | LE MARAIS: TAKE ME TO HAUSSMANN
My story begins,
as that of so many other hopeless romantics,
in the city of both light, and love.
In the city of Haussmann, of kings and queens,
but that of wandering vagabonds, too.
My story begins,
as that of so many others in search of inspiration,
on the banks of the river Seine, and the skirts of Le Marais.
Yes, my story starts here,
for where else, if not at the beginning?
Knowing only that it will be one, of a very great many.
- The Beginning, MM
"Paris... Of course it had to be Paris," I laughed to myself. Where else could it have been? Paris, whose creme-colored facades can't help but flood the cobble-stone streets with all-consuming light. Perhaps that's why people love Paris, even in the rain. It rained that March, too. And God knows, it didn't matter. I had been to Paris many times before, but how could it be - I asked myself - that it took me this long to finally appreciate it in all its glory? It was right then and there, that a certain feeling, seemingly long-lost to me, returned as I found myself on Haussmann's doorsteps. A certain peace, perhaps? I'm not sure.
Ironically, it was here, in this, the City of Love, where I lost my heart for the very first time. It was taken from me in between secret kisses at that little cafe right around the corner from le Tour Eiffel. The one whose name I just can't seem to remember. Ten years have come and gone since that blissful afternoon. Yet here I am again, awe-struck and tongue-tied, left wondering whether I'm about to lose my heart a second time. Or if perhaps, it just took this very same place, to finally find it back again.