Paris…the City of Love


Paris, Paris…what can I say about Paris…the city that leaves her scent on your skin, your lips and your fingertips. She agitates you with desire, her power over confusing the succession of your thoughts. If Rome was the city of beauty, Paris must be the city of passion.

 

As I rented a gorgeous little apartment in the 5th district, I told my landlord it was to continue to write my book on her terrace. She had inspired me with her generosity of spirit. She was a deeply creative soul and with the magical powers of the arts she wished for me a muse, a muse, to help me to create my very own fictional story of love.

 

And they came. With powers so strong, she conjured up not one, but many beautiful, creative, inspiring muses…photographers, writers, musicians, composers, singers and art history aficionados.

 

With these heady mix of characters at play, I soon envisaged myself, the poor impoverished writer calling Paris home for a while. I wanted to soak up every ounce of their creativity. I wanted to live in their world, see what they see, share their emotional turmoil of the city that breathes passion.

 

Hours and hours talking with a very talented photographer with a brilliant mind about art, science, physics, philosophy, psychology, religion, family and home. He allowed me into his world for a short time meeting his eclectic groups of friends, now his family.

 

I felt embraced into their home, welcomed into their world as the insane Aussie travelling through Europe. The muses continued, the singer/composer/musician who loves artwork and found inspiration for music in the galleries and museums of Paris.

 

A fellow writer, a soul mate of sorts writing in her head all day, walking the streets with a smile as she conjures up the next sexy storyline of her plot. Living with her characters day and night as if they were friends she had always known.

 

The art history aficionado working so closely with the priceless treasures that surround him, knowing every inch of them in a way that the rest of us could only dream. Inspired by their beauty, richness and history he exuberated passion from every pore. His profound words ignite every sense in the body.

 

These were my muses. Each with their own savior-faire, so used to living with such greatness, the French have their very own word for it. Their savior-faire…for each it was different…culture, nature, anticipating, whispering words, writing, feeling, learning, touching, inspiring, being born to love, kissing…and yes the Parisians love their kissing and speak of it often. These were their talents, their passions. I am sure there were many more hidden treasures they were too proud to assign.

 

My muses grant me my own savior-faire…charm, writing, imagination, perception and beauty. I accept them graciously. And as I feel more and more a part of their world, I start to question the notion of home. We chat about it, what makes a home, what is home, is it a place or a feeling? For one, it was friends, for another it was the culture of their home city of Paris, the place they were born for another it was their family home, maybe a distant memory but the home they grew up in nevertheless. I am reminded time and time again that I live in one of the most beautiful natural countries in the world, a country that many could only wish to know.

 

I begin to wonder if I could one day call this city of passion home. As I write this last sentence on a train in the South of France, saying goodbye to this beautiful country for now a mass of glistening blue water opens up before me beckoning me to stay basking in her glory. She is urging me to return.

 

So my advice, and I’m not one to normally give advice, but you really should experience Paris, the home of parties of consumption and debauchery. And I jest with the city a little as I say that, but we all do know there is always some small element of truth to every legend.

 

If you come to Paris, don’t listen to those who might say that the Parisians are rude people, that they won’t speak English to you even though they can. Sure, see the sights, The Eiffel Tower, the Arc de Triomphe, Notre Dame, Champs Elysees, Moulin Rouge, the Palias Garnier and especially The Louvre.

 

But please also meet the locals, the native born, the expats, the passionate blend of creative individuals who choose to call Paris home. Find your own savior-faire…learn theirs! And for those of you who might need their very own muse, let me know. I might try and see if some of their magical wonderment can be shared amongst friends.

 

Rome you certainly taught me to appreciate beauty and a little of my heart remains with you but Paris you have left me undeniably changed forever. The passion that you have generously shared with me will inspire me always. I leave with you my beautiful muses. Take good care of them until I see them again.

 

Written by Kellie Cox

February 2016 (on a fast train leaving France)