This week France celebrated the 14 juillet, or Bastille Day, as our side of the pond likes to call it. I have celebrated twice before on the roof of my building, but my parties might have been
the reason a contributing factor in the fact that the no one in the building is allowed any roof access anymore. Still, after climbing 8 flights of stairs, the stairwell gave us the best view around to watch fireworks explode from the Eiffel tower. There are many things I wish I could give all of you who read here. Obviously, many of them are big things, important things, things like a lasting knowledge of saving grace, a place of belonging, a network of people who know and love you. But there are also more trivial things I wish I could give you and that list grows longer when I am in Paris. I wish I could give the taste of a perfect fresh baguette, hot and crispy and wrapped in brown paper. I wish I could give you the sound that your feet make when you walk down the old cobblestone streets of this city. And perhaps most of all, I wish that I could give all of you that moment, high above the city, when the lit tower starts sparkling like a million camera flashes, or the sun glinting of a million diamonds. I wish I could give you that, and hear your sharp intake of breath and softly whispered wow. I wish I could see you reduced to the child that that glittering tower brings out in all of us.
- "Art rediscovers, generation by generation, what is necessary to humanness. " -John Gardner
Lately, on InstagramA moment of tranquil outfit coordinating perfection, before snow got in his boot and he started yelling “WHY IS THE SNOW HURTING ME???” Because Winter is a bad romance kid. Also: to all you parents who had childcare cancelled for snow and now you are getting crazy eyes trying to figure out how to fit a full work day into nap time- I SEE YOU.That magical winter moment when you wake up and find the whole world changed while you slept. Before the snow is dirty, before you realize the hassle of slick roads and buried cars and cancellations, before snow gets in your boots and freezes that patch of skin between your glove and sleeve. Just the wonder at the world made white.