Paris Diary

Hands covered in paint, coin purses filled with small euros for espresso, friendly conversation and toasts at dinner, slips as dresses, and soft morning light.

Here's are the bits and pieces of our (@cybellealexis and @reniriver) Parisian adventure. The things written in here and the photos shown were created in tucked away cafes, on the metro, and while strolling by the river at sunset. Hope it transports you to a faraway land. Bisou bisou!

In Paris I woke up to the smell of fresh bread and the sound of vespa scooters whirring past. The world around you can only be described in rich colors and the way it makes you feel. The off white of a coffee cup, heather grey of the cobble stone, mustard of the taxi cabs, deep red of the lipstick kisses left on napkins, soft periwinkle of the sky at dusk. The familiarity of channel no. 5, the melancholia of couples wandering the ally ways hand in hand, and the nostalgia of rain and how it reminds you of home.


September 2nd,

Eight in the morning. We're at a cafe just down the street from our studio apartment. People are walking past with baguettes under their arms and dogs on leashes. The waiter sits at a table with his espresso and cigarette, blending in with all the cafe goers until someone needs the check.

September 3rd,

Got back from the market. Our basket is full of wine, pasta, basil, olive oil, zucchini, and aubergine. The enchanting foreign lingo lures me in and walks the Seine with me, I'm falling for this place quicker than I thought I could.

Even once i've gone to bed I lie awake as my mind plays scenes from my day on repeat, the soundtrack? A melody created by the murmuring voices of families, the man by the restaurant playing accordion, and my boots tapping the cobblestone with each step.


September 5th,

I woke up late, later than I like. Tossed my hair up and i'm three espressos in.

It feels like home here. But there's not one familiar face. In the cab we pass hundreds of people who i'll never know. It's things like this that open the door to heartache. Even when everything's the best it's ever been, you'll start missing things you never had and those you haven't met.


September 7th,

Last night we drank a bottle of wine and I tweeted too much.


September 13th,

Remember that the sun going down is just an illusion, like the loss of time. The moments that have passed are forever frozen in someones mind.

I can tell that things  that i'm changing by the way i've let go. I'm slowing down in the best way. Even when I run for the metro or wave my hand in the air over and over for a cab, my mind is in slow-mo, hyper aware of the small things, the little details. I'm glancing at the ground, spotting love letters floating away. I'm letting my eyes linger on the citrus colored buildings. I'm writing poetry that follows the tempo of the song playing in my ears.

I said bye to Paris in a hurry, knowing i'd be back soon. And with that I ran to the station to catch a train to the countryside,

Au revoir Paris!