Back from Paris

It’s hard to know where to start with a trip like this.

Of course, there are the normal tourist things we did, and had a great time doing. The Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, Versailles.

I enjoyed these things. They are the things you should do when in Paris, but they aren’t all we did.

There was High Tea at the Ritz, the charm of our server, the excellent Champagne made just for the Ritz, and the arrival of Anna Wintour at a table nearby.

Of course, I had no idea who Anna Wintour was then and only a slightly improved knowledge now about who she is now—it is on my to-do list to watch The Devil Wears Prada. All the same, she is a person that lots of other people take a great deal of interest in, and that interests me.

To me, each person has value. From Nahel Merzouk to Dame Anna Wintour, each one brings something that this world would otherwise not have. This is what makes death, especially of the young, of Nahel Merzouk, such a terrible thing. The thing the lost person brings is no longer available in its living form. It becomes memory and legacy.

Grief is the indicator of just how much each person means. We all grieve differently, as is expected. Personally, I feel the ache of someone’s absence for a long time and am reminded of the absent person by place. Shared spaces make me sad but slowly the ache transforms into memory.

I have dreamt of Paris every night since returning—it has only been a week after all. I dream of walking the streets and looking up at the buildings: seven story, sandstone structures with ironwork balconies adorned in red geraniums.

There are no people in these dreams just buildings and wooden stair cases and stone walls. I wander around, touching the stone, breathing in the air, marvelling at the history of it all.

A young writer friend reminded me these poignant memories will fade over time, becoming blended, blurry versions of themselves.

For now, I continue to marvel at the beautiful place that is Paris and the benefits of considering life from a long way away.