I loved my trip to Paris.
It was a sensory-intensive experience
from beginning to end.
We had many drizzly, but mild, days of
walking to and fro
about the city, absorbing the nuances of its
(I wish I'd snapped a shot of the le Pain Quotidian)
My clothing selection was
- which is all I had asked of it -
in light of the laundry
facilities in our
So, what did I hear?
I was awakened several mornings by the
sound of the rasping broom of a
street sweeper below our windows.
This pianist livened the street corner
at a flea market on a dreary day.
(We kept hoping the ladies would break into song.)
Rain on my umbrella.
The organ at Notre Dame.
A boy's choir performing the Hallelujah Chorus.
A piano recital in a nearby church.
The melody of conversation.
The whine of approaching motorcycles.
An accordionist on the metro.
Street musicians doing their best with the Beatles.
The click of heels on cobblestone.
The hushed reverence of memorial places.