I wrapped my scarf around my neck, just high enough to cover my mouth, but just low enough to let my nose peek out. I do not like things covering my nose, but I hope covering my mouth will inhibit the plague I currently possess from spreading. Last thing I want is to pass my heavy cough and pounding headache to the rest of the flight.
Twelve hours on that Air France plane cramps my 5’10’’ frame and plugs my sensitive ears, but the kind company of my seat companion made for good conversation. Fazal speaks fourteen different languages and is well-versed in all subjects from foreign policy to clean energy alternatives. His brain works quick - he is unchangingly smart, yet unapologetically in love with all of humanity. His ethical core is evident. Impeccably humble and wisely discerning, he is quite impressive, quite inspiring.
Finally off the plane.
The biting air catches in my already tight chest. My gait is long and brisk as my muscles enjoy the new found space to stretch. As I make my way from the terminal, onto the tram the halls are lined with artist memoirs - Monet, Degas, Van Gogh. My heart flickers - pieces I forgot even knew how to shine.
One stamp - a shy “merci” and I have made it through customs.
Our flat is quintessential Paris. Complete with herringbone wood floors, decadent crown molding and narrow dreamy balconies. I plan to watch each sunrise and sunset from a balcony - coffee in one hand, pen in the other - wrapped in a heavy down comforter, cuddling with the cool breeze. From my balcony I see the backside of the Louvre - a dreamlike scape of perfectly sculpted courtyards and iron work so impeccable, it looks to have been drawn on by a calligraphist.
The cobble stone streets, intricate architecture and melodic mystery that stumbles past my ears has already carried me away. As we wandered through the narrow streets a familiar, yet forgotten sense of awe settles over me. Nutella crêpe in hand and my family by my side, it seems 2014 is already full of new wonders and unimaginable beauty.
Twelve hours on that Air France plane cramps my 5’10’’ frame and plugs my sensitive ears, but the kind company of my seat companion made for good conversation. Fazal speaks fourteen different languages and is well-versed in all subjects from foreign policy to clean energy alternatives. His brain works quick - he is unchangingly smart, yet unapologetically in love with all of humanity. His ethical core is evident. Impeccably humble and wisely discerning, he is quite impressive, quite inspiring.
Finally off the plane.
The biting air catches in my already tight chest. My gait is long and brisk as my muscles enjoy the new found space to stretch. As I make my way from the terminal, onto the tram the halls are lined with artist memoirs - Monet, Degas, Van Gogh. My heart flickers - pieces I forgot even knew how to shine.
One stamp - a shy “merci” and I have made it through customs.
Our flat is quintessential Paris. Complete with herringbone wood floors, decadent crown molding and narrow dreamy balconies. I plan to watch each sunrise and sunset from a balcony - coffee in one hand, pen in the other - wrapped in a heavy down comforter, cuddling with the cool breeze. From my balcony I see the backside of the Louvre - a dreamlike scape of perfectly sculpted courtyards and iron work so impeccable, it looks to have been drawn on by a calligraphist.
The cobble stone streets, intricate architecture and melodic mystery that stumbles past my ears has already carried me away. As we wandered through the narrow streets a familiar, yet forgotten sense of awe settles over me. Nutella crêpe in hand and my family by my side, it seems 2014 is already full of new wonders and unimaginable beauty.
1 comment:
Elle! I didn't know you were going to Paris! I hope you have a blast! Love you :)
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