Rue de Paradis

Street of Paradise

Avec fleurs de rouge, bleu, et blanc

Sounds of les enfants playing at school

Shoes shining in the store window. Leather and lace, delicate thread interwoven in the soles. Their rich hues call my name from the street.

Madam and Messieurs’ buying baguettes et vin et fromage.

“Madame, what do you want?”

The smell of la soupe du jour wafts from the kitchen to my tiny round table and chair.

“Je voudrais un café, s'il vous plait”

Joyous laughter echoes from the arcade and bar. Youths, not yet giving up their childhood, but enjoying a sip or two of merlot. Their smoke carries from the door into the chilly night. It wraps around closed cafes and brasseries and walks into the bars and clubs.

Paris en le nuit es très jolie.

Rue de Paradis es tres jolie in the shadows of le noir.

The morning hustle evolves into something magical.

La Maison Lumiere, twinkling chandeliers sparkle under florescent electricity. When the sun touches the earth, the Eiffel Tower celebrates with glowing, twinkling, flashing light. Electricity. Magic. The night is glowing. Street lamps, club lights, flashlights, phone screens, and everything gives us energy. The darkness conceals and reveals. Some people go to sleep, others wake up.

Rue de Paradis

Street of Paradise

You’re lovely in the morning when the sun says “bonjour” to the sky, and le cafe is brewing, and le metro warms its tracks.

You’re fun in the afternoon, when the chefs come to play, and hungry workers stay and stay.

You’re alive at night. When your neon signs and shining tower reveals its glowing electric light.

Some call it Paris, I call it Paradise.

Memoirs from my travels in Paris last year.

Please ❤, merci beaucoup!