Pages from a Paris Sketchbook

Not a record of everything — just what stayed.

arrival

Some landmarks insist on being photographed.

Others invite you to stand still long enough to feel where you are.

Moulin Rouge

By nightfall, the city changed its voice.

Lights brightened. Velvet and brass replaced stone and sky.

The day widened instead of ending.

early quiet

Père Lachaise

A nip in the morning air.

Cobblestone paths, bare branches, stained glass holding the early light.

The city felt hushed — as if it hadn’t fully decided to begin yet.

An ordinary street, suddenly generous.

warming

Café Crème & Pan au Chocolat arrived.

Tiny cup. Perfect. We enjoyed these throughout the day.

small indulgences

Sweet things appeared without fanfare.

A choice made slowly. Nothing here asked to be rushed.

looking closely

We stood quietly with color and water and time.

Some paintings don’t explain themselves.

They wait.

taking it in

We came to watch the artists. Before long, we were sketching too.

By afternoon, the city stretched outward.

Rooftops fell away, conversations softened,

and Paris revealed itself not all at once — but enough.

By the end of the day, we were moving slower.

Not because we were tired — but because we were listening.

ever grateful

Discovery, in the end, looked like this.

Being grateful for what the city had quietly given us.