Summer in Paris means Amorino ice cream cones with roses of gelato that drips on your hands, endless evenings that melt into perfect sunsets, impossibly hot metro rides that make you thankful for the air outside, long shadows in the Luxembourg gardens, les vacances, sticking your feet in fountains, les soldes, the need for sunglasses (enfin!), long rambles with no goal because there is no need, music in the streets, light upon the Seine, flowers. Summer in Paris is the brightest of sight and sound and taste and touch.
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Awww.. how you make me miss Paris in every one of your posts!
Je l’aime.
[…] -Paris summers mean many things that are wonderful. But they are also the reality of no air conditioning, sweaty people crammed in metros, and endless lines at everything remotely worthy of a photo. I need not detail the smell that one often wanders into, and the manner in which one becomes trapped in a sea of tourists led by leaders holding their umbrellas aloft. This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged details, France, lists, Paris, photography, stories, summer, travel. Bookmark the permalink. ← After the sun [finally] sets LikeBe the first to like this post. […]