Bare and Beautiful

Paris in February yields the nudeness of an unclothed woman, beautiful as the crystals of a snowflake, and just as cold. When the sky opens up to reveal the blue sky and sun we turn our faces, as if receive a kiss from our mother, for she, Paris, is our mother, grandmother, sister, aunt, and daughter. Paris, a woman of class and stature, renowned throughout the world. Paris, she is still beautiful even in the dead of winter. Like a lady who has taken off all of her makeup, I glimpsed her in her most vulnerable form, naked as she was born. Paris, stripped of all the splendor of the year. Fountains turned off, jewelry put on the dresser, river a muddy brown, but still as silky as freshly washed hair. Paris, the woman still glitters without her façade of green grass and summer flowers. Paris, I saw her bare and beautiful. The life and love of a woman captivated by beauty is written in her stone walls and stained glass windows, in the street vendors, the painters, the black clad coat wearers and smiles of the children. Grasping the tiny rays of sunshine as if it were her last we awaiting the morning when she will dawn her jewels once more.

Sleeping in Paris

Soon I will be sleeping in Paris. I will be spending two days in the City of Lights and Love. I have no expectations, no adgenda, I will just see what turnes up and be happy with whatever I am given. Once again another journey comes to a close, while at the same time another unfolds. Life is a series of happenings and choices. I hope I can always make the right one and if not, then I hope I can be happy with whater I choose. Look out world because I’m just getting started with you!