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80 of 365

Recently, I passed the obnoxiously lit up Buddha statue in Hyderabad. It reminded me of a somewhat similarly lit, with a little more class perhaps, Eiffel Tower. Though frankly, the two have little in common barring the lights of course.

Writing about Paris, though, is far from easy. Adjectives don’t describe it well enough. Descriptions seem to not do justice to its remarkable spirit. I find myself failing to accurately portray the effect this city had on me. So, instead I have been wandering in and out of my Paris memories. The experience itself was less body and more soul. There is no less cliche way for me to put it.

The memories are varied. Some are of the ancient street lamps on the streets with a fountain or a sculpture at every junction. Some memories are of the vast public spaces to sit down and read a book. Others are of the one too many quaint coffee shops sprinkled in every arrondissement. Often, I think of the Pont des Arts with the thousands of love locks or fondly in my memory, the bridge of love. Sometimes I remember how grand and magnificent the Lourve looked at night. I get lost in images of how the city lit up subtly at night (of course, not the Eiffel Tower with its lighthouse lights). I remember how warmth spread through my body as we entered an unique bar right next to the circus. I visited the city in the winter and everything indoors was heated! But importantly, the feeling of walking around breathless and in awe of the beauty and charm of Paris. I had wondered many times before if people had exaggerated when talking or writing about Paris. After having walked in the city for a mere few days, I felt unsatisfied and a little disappointed at my departure. I vowed to return to Paris someday and stay for a while. To breathe the air, to wander aimlessly, to write in one of those coffee shops, to feel the romance, to know the unknown places to eat, to perhaps even learn about fashion, to get accustomed to the Parisien way of life, to revisit Shakespeare and Company, to see every room in the Louvre, to not feel like an outsider in that city.

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