but despite that deep exhaustion only all nighters can bring, before i was even "home" from the airport that morning, i was aware of the fact that paris knows how to look back at you. everyone. they look you in the eye and don't shy away when you look back. nor are they afraid to let you know what they think of you. they don't hide the fact they think you're dressed different or it's odd you're jogging along the underground tunnel to the arc d'triomphe. they don't hide when they think you're curious or ignorant {aka english speaker} or sexy. it's all out there for you to see and connect with if you so chose to look back.
and of course i did.
and what i noticed in myself was the shift i had in those first few days to feeling beautiful. and not that on any level i felt more or less attractive – i use beauty here not to describe my looks, but a simple state of being-ness. yes, this feeling had a degree of awareness of my appeal to others, but mostly it rested in a place beyond my own self-criticism where i could just rest in the light of a momentary dialogue with whatever was happening behind this other person's eyes.
even at the time i was aware of the correlation between being engaged in that moment of connection {as opposed to evaded or completely ignored when i usually go looking for eyes} and my own sense of self confidence and worth. and i know that i don't like how much i still rely on the eyes and acknowledgement of others to help me find that space of calm, collected confidence. but that growth is obviously still for another day.
it was enough those six days in paris to celebrate the fact that all my life i have been looking out, literally since the day i was born and looked everyone in the delivery room in the eye, and never have i found a whole city where they look back quite so boldly in return.
view from the steps of sacre couer that first morning.
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