I think Paris is most beautiful during “golden hour”—that time of day when the sun is setting and the light filters through the trees, bounces off water and casts a warm glow over the entire city.
Only now as we go further in November, this time of day is becoming earlier and earlier, and the sun is seen less and less as grey clouds start to monopolise the sky. And we can’t have light without shadow.
Paris is a beautiful city but when it comes to setting up a life here it’s not always a walk in Le Jardin des Tuileries. It’s very easy to develop an inexplicable resentment for the sheer bureaucracy that makes the smallest tasks such as changing my address with the bank a lengthy and document-heavy process. And yes, there are people in this city who will show others no compassion and will not be open to letting new people into their friendship circle. It’s understandable—Parisians constantly have people asking them for something, whether it’s money or a cigarette. Parisians are almost desensitised to seeing that homeless couple on the street and the worse-for-wear looking man on the métro who walks up and down the carriage telling his story for the fifteenth time today.
I know I’m lucky. Sometimes it takes a sunset walk through the park to realise it, and sometimes it takes something else.