Do you ever become so familiar with a place that you forget to really look at what is around you?
I had that revelation the last time I visited Paris.
I understood that complacency had taken a tiny hold, not in an un-grateful way but in a missing-the-detail kind of way.
As I wondered the rue de Rivoli I started noticing, really noticing the architecture.
What held my attention was the intersection of angles, the way the grand and the beautiful were also linear and sharp.
Angles soaring towards and framed against the Parisian skies.
If Paris were a gender I would think of her as feminine.
On this particular day, as I walked along with my focus held high, I saw a masculine side for the first time.
A blend of acute edges.
Chimney stacks, balconies, dormer windows and double pitched zinc mansards.
I took a fresh look at the courtyard facing the Louvre.
I.M Pei’s glass pyramid sliced through the softness of the Louis’ reign.
A hard edge conflicting with the grandiose architecture of the classical period.
Contrasts rendering each structure more beguiling, better together than alone.
Wherever I looked I saw scenes within a scene, a cityscape built of surprise layers.
Arches were framing points and arches were framed within arches.
Paris was playing peek-a boo.
And now I see you… xv