A moment lived

I'm drawn to this place, this center of Paris, this center of my universe. Here on these islands in the Seine is where Paris was born. This morning is cool and gray. I'm not ready to go anywhere just yet but neither am I content to sit in the apartment. I have a good book and a hot cup of coffee but a voice is prodding me … go out, go out now or you'll miss something. I get up and walk the few steps from my apartment to Pont St Louis and become an observer, waiting for something to happen. This morning what happens is beautiful beyond words. I am deep in thought and not paying much attention. And like a beautiful woman being ignored Paris begins to flirt with me. She creates a symmetry that can't be ignored, an alignment of her attractions that catches my eye and reminds me of the reasons I love her. She doesn't make it easy, there is only one spot along this quay where the lines come together in just this way, evoking images that spill into my mind from all that has happened here, to me, to the characters in the books I read, to the figures in history that may have stood here wondering if tomorrow would bring victory or defeat, or if tomorrow would even come. I am so lost in the experience that I almost miss making this image. I try to mark the spot so that I can come back. Halfway between the 5^th and 6^th lamp posts from the bridge. As I walk away I already know that Paris and I will not be the same and I can stand on this spot as often as I wish but the moment has been lived and is gone.