17 February 2017

Paris from the top Floor

I thought I was dreaming the first time I woke up in Paris. The simplicity of the rustic, untreated wooden floors and the white walls of our apartment inspired my artistic nature. Paris and our studio appeared as a blank canvas in need of painting. The city called for our presence, and the walls begged for photographs of our adventures. I dressed in slim trousers many shades deeper than the gray of the sky. My purple cashmere sweater brightened up the studio in the absence of the sun's rays. I opened the double doors to the balcony and stepped outside. Many of the shutters on the windows within view were still closed. I felt accomplished in my triumph of rising at a decent hour. We had visited the Eiffel Tower, now faintly visible beyond the rooftops, the night before. It had glowed and so had we. A glimpse of the still tower in the daylight confirmed that Paris was not a dream, but rather real life.
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M.J.C.

11 February 2017

The Case for the Macaron in Three Points

1. I think of Paris when I hold a macaron in my hand. Shopping at Ladurée is a Parisian pastime for my husband and me. Thus, I have come to associate the delicacy with this French city. Although I buy macarons from purveyors in other cities, I envision the shop on the Avenue des Champs-Élysées with every bite. 
2. Preparing macarons is an artform. The time-consuming process reminds me that the best things in life require an investment of time. Like art, my life should not be rushed. 
3. The brilliant colors of macarons lift my spirits under an overcast sky. Salted caramel is my favorite flavor.
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Ladurée on the Avenue des Champs-Élysées
M.J.C.

07 February 2017

Paris in February

I fly to La Ville Lumière in winter. Give me the rain and the slate sky, but keep the tourists away. A tourist takes selfies with the most popular works in museums for bragging rights. My taste are not popular, and I do not boast. Thus, I do not have anything in common with the masses that flood the Musée du Louvre in search of the Mona Lisa. Give me the crisp air. I will bring my tights and a trench coat. Let me go into the most secluded galleries of the museum.

Paris in February



M.J.C.





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