In yet another episode of wandering, I happened to walk past an old church which once occupied a very central place in the politics of France, whose church bell on St. Bartholomew’s Day summoned the massacre of several innocent people – and in more recent history, was the venue for the ill-fated wedding of Eva Longoria. All of these events have had their full life’s cycle, are defunct and long past. And, this to me is part of the beauty of wandering aimlessly around Paris – the opportunity to walk on streets trod by kings and queens on their way to mass or daily prayer, the hurried hate-filled footsteps of ‘genocidaires’ thirsty for the blood of unwanted foreigners – and those of countless young lovers about to take a plunge into the unknown realms of commitment. It is what makes wandering Paris a transcendental experience, each and every time.
And, on another note – while I am trying to resist being overly fascinated by the city’s christmas lights : it is increasingly difficult not to take pictures. They are so sparkly, so pretty – I probably will lose my resolve to detach myself from all inordinate fascination with christmas lighting and begin to click away. In this episode of backstreet wandering, I slipped. I took just one photograph of a few festive lights. This is how all addictions begin, I guess. It is the beginning of a slippery slope toward endless picture-taking of Paris christmas lights. Watch this space.