What can I tell you about Paris, without it being told 100 times already, chewed and finally spit out like a cliché?
So I will wait to gather my impressions and get rid of these bouts of depression when I return from an impressive place to an unimpressive everyday life.
That’s why this post is not about Paris. This post is about a woman who would like to see Paris. In fact, who would like to see the whole world, but would probably start from Paris.
She would go into a cafe on the corner and say “Bonjour”, order a croissant and sit down to go through the daily press. No one would have suspected that she was not from there. 🥐☕️
Afterwards, she would walk past the Seine in a polka dot dress, and after soaking compliments down the promenade, she would ride a bicycle, pick up a baguette, and take it home.
By some crazy coincidence, that woman ended up on another corner of the planet, just when someone decided to turn off the light and delete that corner from the European map.
And then she waited and hoped that the light would shine from the Eiffel Tower to our alley once more. And it did not.
She listened to promises and calls for patience, as well as the phrase that the world has become thinner, smaller, that everything is at hand.
However, Paris remained far away, but in spite of everything, she nurtured it in herself, without even being aware of it. She would teach me to dance waltz, play old movies and listen to the piano. She knew a few phrases in French and talked about the French influence in Russian courts. This, my dear ones, is not bought with a plane ticket, Louis Vuitton bag, or beret in front of the tower. It’s something you live and feel.
Through me, my mother experienced a little bit of Paris, and the world as well. Honestly, sometimes I think that’s the real reason I can’t stop traveling.
All my mother’s wishes gathered in me.
My dear Paris, I loved you even before I met you, and now even more. Stay where you are and wait for my mom. Here, she is coming, at any moment she will arrive…