I had dreamed of Paris. For a long, long time. I created visions of what it would be like, what it would feel like, what it would taste like. Opportunities came to go, but I passed. I was waiting for the right partner. When I finally found her I knew that the time was right. We planned. We flew. We rode the bullet train from London, just like in my dream. Then we arrived. My dreams, my visions. They more then came true. I am but one lowly human being. My little mind couldn’t even fathom the true depths of Paris. My dreams of Paris didn’t come true. Paris came true.
That is how deeply Paris affected me. It literally blew my mind. It gave me smiles that hurt after awhile. Brought me to tears on the very first night. Yes, I cried in Paris and it felt wonderful. It felt like I was walking through history. The Tower. Notre Dame. The river Seine. The architecture. The art. Every corner and street held perfection in the old, ornate doorways and windows. The little balconies. The metro stations. There was so much to take in that it was often overwhelming. Even now my thoughts ramble on and on about it. How can I make sense of such a place? How can I express and share Paris so that someone who’s never been there can feel it. Then it hit me. I can’t.
Paris is beyond words. Yes, yes, I could sit here and try to string together some strong adjectives. Search the thesaurus for even more words and try to come even remotely close to what I saw and what I felt and what I experienced. But I’m not going to. This time, I’m going to take the “show me, don’t tell me” approach and let the photographs express Paris for me. But let me be clear from the start – even the photographs will fall short. Far short of what can only be felt in person. Directly. From the city of beautiful light herself. Paris. She does come true.