Monday musings - They all have a story about Paris
Everybody will have a story about Paris, weather they have actually been there or not. Paris feels so exclusive, even to us who come there regularly through the years. Few, if anyone will ever feel like they own the city. People talk about the cruel heart of New York, yet if you make it there as the song goes, you can call it your own. You fought for it, now you can have it. If even for a moment, you can feel on top of the city, on top of the world. Paris won’t give you that. She will take you in, perhaps even let you feel familiar. You will be her guest, but she will never be owned and will never be under your thumb. Everyone would like to feel at home in Paris, and everybody can. She is graceful like that, because she will let you project all your romantic ideas of the city and she will make them come true, slightly tainted sometimes, but still true. Paris the city though, has probably never been home to anyone. The Paris of Casablanca, of Belle du jour, heck even of Sex and the City, remain a mirage. That’s the legend of the city, covering the different neighborhoods and café’s like a shimmering lavender grey cloud, ever present but unable to grasp. The ones who come often have accepted the disillusion of those first days and weeks when you feel Paris is all there for your pleasure. She is not. You can play, but then you must go away. Sometimes you come across people who boast about how they know Paris, they’ve come there forever it’s like their second home. These people need a smack on the head, but let’s be forgiving, they simply haven’t realized yet she’s just leading them on.
The souls that have made Paris their home, have concurred through humility. The swallow in its nest, the café dog, the 72 year old lady who hasn’t left her neighborhood in 30 years. Paris is ruled by the zodiac sign of Virgo and the Virgo represents humility and focus on detail. That lavender cloud could literally cloud your judgement and make you forget what is right in front of you. The key to the soul of Paris cannot be reached through spending a fortune on shoes with a red sole or dining at Café Flores. She will give you the courtesy your money can buy, but she will not give you access to her heart. Man can’t own a city, however much proof to the contrary history may show. You cannot, because it is impossible for one soul to blend with all those square miles of marble, the alleyways of majestic trees. The energy of one human simply does not reach that far.
You can leave a trace of your soul on a street corner, under a bridge, on a wave of the Seine or in the shadows of Jardin de Luxembourg. Have integrity in how you give yourself away and the picky lady that is Paris might start letting you in. Don’t get greedy and try to make it all yours because just like trying to hold to many marbles in your hand, they will slip your grip and roll down the streets and stairs until someone with more sense picks them up, carefully, one by one and keep them like a secret in their pocket. When you let your soul mix with the small, you become part of the whole. And that’s why; if you are lucky, you will always have your own Paris.
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