August 6, 2014 § 2 Comments
The anthropogenic nature of this city strikes me after the wildness of Darwin. Ever built, ever manmade, ever hard surfaced under foot. Even the flow of the Seine tamed between stone walls. But in Paris, its difficult not to embrace the human geography. There too is a deep and wild beauty embedded in history and culture. The churches the mountains of a rugged urban landscape. Green strolling parks made as if for falling in love. Ages built on ages, a close, closed intimate city, intimate within itself. Smells of flowers and fish, cheese and strawberries.
One evening I watch a string quintet playing the movements of Vivaldi in an old chapel with high reaching stained glass windows. Tall and majestic, the coloured walls reach up to create a cocoon for the music to bounce off. Intimacy again, its as if the music is coming from my very own body. The reflections of the colour and the sound so near to perfect, my love for the city is convinced.
And July is a beautiful time to be in Paris, especially late evening when the dusk starts creeping in, the light gentle and gold as it turns to the blue hour. The evening sky against the city is full of smell, of touch, of sight , of colour. All things possibly tangible. Another moment close to perfect, this precious dusk time. A quiet stillness above the hum of the city – above the gentle clatter of the dinner plates and the red wine voices that echo across terrace laden rooftops. And with these slow extended light summer evenings of Europe, these magic moments appear to last forever. They move so slowly, and you appear to be caught between them.