Sunday in Paris

by Hillary

All the shops are closed. People are lingering on the sidewalks, looking fabulous and French. I’m at a sidewalk cafe, watching. I wish you were here to share this simple moment with me. All you’re supposed to do on Sunday in Paris is find the sun and then sit. This is it:

Yesterday evening, I got caught in the rain. I had to stop and stand under a bakery awning. People were running, jumping over puddles, dodging bikers, seeking shelter. Me? In the moment. I am the rain. Rolling along like the sounds of thunder, sparking ideas like lightning, gently passing my thoughts along like raindrops pattering and rolling off of the roof. Letting time flow through me like the water rushing into the grates in the street. And then after, the bright sheen from streetlights on the pavement gave the city a glow, like saturated watercolors running down the page. And I will remember it like a perfect dream.

Today, I will find the Pantheon. Paint with pastels. Drink another cafe au lait. Take photographs and listen carefully to the sounds of Sunday, October 24th, 2010… the only one we will ever have.

What are you doing today?

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