The first time that I felt at home and "arrived" in Paris was when I first looked at the passing streets from a bike. Now that spring finds its way into the boulevards and parks of Paris (and in our hearts *sigh*) my vélib-abonnement pays off once again. All that rainy grey gloomy days are supposed to vanish behind the sun that is finally showing up again, after all the clouds have gone.
When the beams of shy February sunlight peek through the rare leaves in the trees of the alleys, when the top floors of the Haussmann-houses are bathed in a golden shine and the people enjoy their afternoon cigarettes on the balconies, when you just put on some good music, when you see the kids playing soccer in the streets and the skateboarders failing at their tricks on Place de la République, when you cross the Canal St Martin and you hear the birds sing in a dissonant composition with the seagulls, when you have your gloves, a scarf and a bonnet ready (because it's still freezingly cold in the wind). Then you hit the pedals of your bicycle without even noticing because you're so stunned and paralysed at the same time by the beauty surrounding you,
The beauty of daily life. The beauty of the moment. Pour l'instant (= for the moment), you're just happy. It's easy. You don't have to worry about money, about arguments, about problems, about life or death.
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| Canal St Martin these days... |
A good friend of mine told me that music sometimes works like a drug which can put you in all different kinds of states of mind: Sad, angry, desperate, happy...
And if you're listening to that song above, if you close your eyes and imagine all the things I described, you will smile. You will understand me and my spontaneous urge to write all these things down.
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