Paris is a place of magic; in all connotations of the word. It is full of illusions intended to entrap the unwitting passerby, as well as a more unspoken magic that you feel in your blood as impossible images pass by your eyes.
We arrived on a Tuesday night. In the states, most people would be in bed, preparing for a day of work. In Paris, however, everyone was lounging next to the Seine, sharing a bottle of wine while they dangle their feet over the river. There was a carnival atmosphere, intensifying as we drew closer to the Eiffel Tower. Hawkers shouted their wares, wines and cheap souvenirs, throwing their whirring toys into the air as they flashed like planes in the sky and floated back to earth. Little toy robots danced on the ground, mimicking or being mimicked by a nearby street artist. Children laughed and skipped, unwillingly anchored to reality by their parents hands. It was nearly midnight, but no one looked ready for bed.
At midnight, the whole city grew silent and turned to the Eiffel tower as it went dark. Seconds later, lights flashed up and down the steel structure, shooting stars captured, dancing up and down along its frame.
Like everything else, the French do death in style-the interior of a crypt at a cemetary in Paris
"A riot of color in a dreary grey world"- A Knight's Tale
The sunlight guilding the glass pyramid at the Louvre
We were drunk on cheap wine and beer, and the freedom of drinking openly in the city streets, as we walked back to our waiting bed. I felt a tug on my purse, and from the corner of my eye saw a dark figure behind me. "Asshole!" I yelled, as the pieces suddenly came together. I reached back and whacked him with the purse he had tried to pick from. He was my height, and thin, eyes wide from pain or stupidity, or drugs, no telling. He didn't even run when I thwacked him again, landing a solid hit on his arm as he tried to protect his head from the onslaught. He looked sad and confused as my hulking brute of a husband yelled at him in English, before he wandered away. It was the my first encounter with a petty thief, and I was surprised at his utter lack of apology and his slow escape.
The magic remained, however. I understood that part of it was pure illusion, intended to awe and amuse while the unwitting observer was cased for their small valuables. But what amazing magic it was.
Photos and language are property of Sunravelme, reposted from last year's post
