Once upon a time in Paris …from the archives

From the archives…

How many perfect days can one have in a lifetime? As a child  there are whole chunks of time that seem that way in memory, but as we grow up there are more pressures and worries and perfect days are few and far between it seems. Looking back to when I was a very much younger woman there were none I recall until I went to work in France.

It was the first perfect day in my adult memory. I had not been in France for very long, just a couple of weeks and my French was still very stilted, friends non-existent yet I was in a country and a city I adored.

It was Sunday and I had gone into Paris very early. As always the thrill of being there lifted me and made my heart sing as I walked out of the Metro into the sunlight. I had no plans that day and simply started to walk. From Notre Dame out to the Bois de Boulogne, then back via the Arc de Triomphe to the Seine. It was a beautiful morning.

Click to continue reading: Once upon a time in Paris | Daily Echo

About Sue Vincent

Sue Vincent is a Yorkshire-born writer and one of the Directors of The Silent Eye, a modern Mystery School. She writes alone and with Stuart France, exploring ancient myths, the mysterious landscape of Albion and the inner journey of the soul. Find out more at France and Vincent. She is owned by a small dog who also blogs. Follow her at scvincent.com and on Twitter @SCVincent. Find her books on Goodreads and follow her on Amazon worldwide to find out about new releases and offers. Email: findme@scvincent.com.
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4 Responses to Once upon a time in Paris …from the archives

  1. Mary Smith says:

    Lovely. It reminds me of a day in Lahore in Pakistan. It was my first time there and I knew no one. I had the name of an organisation who had sent a speaker to an Oxfam conference in the UK. I contacted her and she made arrangements for a young man to take me around the city – sitting sidesaddle on the back of his motorcycle. I had a fabulous day (once I got over my fear of falling off the bike) and in the evening when he took me back to the hostel we couldn’t bear to part and went and sat in a park and talked and talked. I don’t remember his name but I remember the magical feeling of that day and evening.


  2. Lovely, Sue. —- Suzanne


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