petit birds chirp rapidly in the 5th arrondissement, the full moon fading from nigh as the dawn begins to break over the historic rooftops. the streets outside are quiet, lacking the bustle of midday tourists, the only sounds of sweet fowl lyrics and the occasional shopkeep arriving for the day.
our apartment sits high above the street across the isle from Norte Dame. in a few hours her bells will clang loudly across the cityscape, as to wake the people from their sinful slumbers and decadent dreams. pigeons will flock to her square, pecking at the cobbled ground, spying on pesky toddlers for tossed crackers and bits of bread.
it’s been several years since I walked the streets of Paris, felt entrapped by her concrete beauty, intoxicated by her golden inlays and glistening crowns. not much has changed, sans the small military gangs patrolling France’s most harbored treasures. rightfully so, yet a painful reminder of the cost of security in the wake of increased globalization. nonetheless, the city of lights still glitters with fervor and adulation.
the air is cool and crisp and fresh with energy. when sommkid arrived, her excitement was pinpointed, focused on the Iron Lady of the horizon, the glittery facade imprinted in the mind of an impressionable girl.
yet we walked the banks of the River Seine, admired the hosts of rebound books dusty with years of dedication to the written word. we culled over crepes layered with nutella and bananas and seeping with gooey deliciousness and all that is Paris. we rode carousels. then we walked some more.
and when all was said and done, when the stain glass windows were viewed in opulence, the museums perused, the cheese half eaten, and the rillette devoured… we drank wine and admired the view from our apartment window. tomorrow is another day, one in which these two ladies might just meet.