Friends, I am getting old. I have spent the past three days ambling around Paris, wondering how I used to do it. Zipping from one corner to another, eating here, sipping there, taking in art… I’m doing my damnedest because who knows when I’ll be back again, but I wish I could kick it into a higher gear to ensure I conquer everything I want this week.
Then again, I realize it’s time to just go with it. Move at a slower pace. Stop at the café for (another) Perrier. See one less thing that day. Because that is the beauty of it all, n’est-ce pas? Those little moments and indulgences.
A visit to the Boulevard Raspail Marché.
Aperos with a friend at Café Flore.
Lunch in the sun at Le Comptoir du Relais.
It's all a joy, being here, squeezing in whatever I can. It's the sound of the traffic. The feel of Velibing. Seeing all the Plane trees and crepe stands and manicured gardens. There are the old sights...
And the infusion of new.
And as I like to think, we'll always have Pierre Hermé.