PARIS

Palm Sunday.My first hours in Paris
At 3pm I had come out of the gate of the hotel on Rue Brunel in central Paris.I was on a paved alley, tight as a corset, surrounded by typical Parisian buildings.They seemed to be the stone embodiment of the noble ladies at Maria Antoinete’s courtyard.The buildings were standing tall above me in an elegant contrast of creamy white stones and black iron balconies.The pale buildings resembled the powdered faces from Versailles.The high windows evoked the exposed superiority of the noble chins raised above the fans.Window arches-elaborate hairstyles wigs.The balconies-esthetic details without practical purpose, almost suffocating,like the corsets of the extravagant dresses of the XVIII th century.
Champs Ellysse.The glamorous contemporary loisirs were exposed in the luxury stores,restaurants and cafes. For me,the living museum,created by the people of Paris,newcomers and pilgrims,was the most captivating.Here,each and every individual created his or her own painting exhibit.It was like a Van Gogh was sitting at one of the small,round,iron tables and was waiting to capture them in a painting.Tourists with wide eyes trying to fill themselves with Paris like empty vessels.People on the terraces watching behind coffee cups,apparently detached from the show. A young Asian with porcelain face, passing in silence,looking only forward.A swing yellow skirt a la Carrie Bradshaw was passing over her knees. Her white ankles were shackled by summer sandal straps on the Champs Ellysse catwalk,15 degrees Centigrade and mild wind...Next, a " magician "was playing the game” black or white”, creating insignificant bets. Some steps further, people were passing a beggar who was lying still, in black dusty clothes with the face covered.
Passing Pont d' Iena, I had the tower in front of me .I was stepping down the stairs,like a giant stepping on the rungs of a pyramid.I was next to the Seine, in the Batobus station,looking at the boats full of tourists who were greeting,fanning their arms in the air,calling,smiling broadly.,photographing.I found myself smiling to this show.
Waiting there in front of a chain,I was projecting, in my mind’s eye, an imaginary trip in my boat of Charon, the journey of my soul. Suddenly, I felt the scent of orange hardwood. I had washed my hair with this French essence just before I left the hotel.I reminded myself. I had come to discover the city and,instead,I discovered myself while I was rocking on the Seine.