It’s a breezy, mid-spring Wednesday in Paris, the ninth Arrondissement. A fluffy white Samoyed pops out of a narrow road closely tailed by his athleisure fitted owner.
I stumble upon a moment of peace; a sudden gust of wind flows through the Sycamore trees. They encircle a small, neoclassical fountain. I approach. Pigeons bounce at the foot. Three mythic nymphs, holding hands, share an austere glare across the courtyard.
They stand guard over the Cité de Trévise, over the welfare of an elite who once lived in this quarter, when the quarter was gated, and the king still ruled. This was the final decade of a monarchy. 1840. 8 years later, after the outbreak of revolution, King Louis Phillipe fled into exile.
I continue my day, moved by the magic that lies in this city. The location is linked below.
Wednesday 24 April