Please try to picture the four of us sitting in the front row of a publicity fashion show in Paris. Whatever you are picturing is how it looked. We were the most critical members in the audience, immediately recognizing which parts of every outfit that we would never wear—but admiring the courage of the people who would. Everything was really bright: hoop earrings that are bigger than your ears are made to match your shoes. The most unexpected trend was the footie-socks under extremely high-heeled shoes. Very weird. But, the show served its purpose in granting us conversation points for the rest of the day and a sense of what might be coming in the down-spin cycle of fashion.

Food is the focus of these days in Paris, as it should be. We have been to a few beautiful restaurants, and last night to a tavern that I adored. Floors were creaky, but tables were lined with white. We were preparing physically for a concert that had been planned for the evening. John’s family friend, Shelly, spent the afternoon with us. It was nice to have a different guide. John must be exhausted always trying to entertain or lead or interpret.

Shelly was exactly the woman I would hope to meet in Paris. Canadian born, she has been in Paris for 18 years, working with the Christian and Missionary Alliance. Her authenticity was very refreshing, and her spirit was beyond enthusiastic. She described the sights and sounds of Paris with the passion and feeling of an impressionist. In fact, she describes the Paris that John sees, but she can say it with an expression and a charisma that speaks to me more clearly. I felt like my mom had been with me all day long because of Shelly’s confidence and beautiful compassion.

Our new guide made her way to an exclamation point in the city, and even though I’ve seen it before I couldn’t help but to be moved by the beauty of the structure. Notre Dame remains so well preserved, and we reached the bridge as the sun was sneaking over the horizon, taking its last look at the Rose window. I wish that the four of us would’ve stayed together, but Drew and I really hoped to get a picture of the stained glass throughout the sanctuary. The truth and history found in old churches and theatres stops me in the middle of my thought. You can be surrounded by twenty people in the middle of the theatre and still feel lonely. This loneliness isn’t negative. It is a freedom… freedom from needing food or people or possessions. I feel content just remembering it. In this sanctuary, there are many things that I don’t understand completely; traditions and rituals are intriguing but not so much attractive. I left the building and immediately felt liberty from the chains of legalism, but also humbled from the reverence and holiness of a worshipped God.

The only place more liberating than the lighted exit of a darkened cathedral is the unique corner of a dusty bookstore. That is exactly where we went. Shakespeare and Company is an English bookstore just down the street from Notre Dame. A wishing well sits in the middle of the store just because people like to make wishes (according to a clerk), and every nook is filled with a dusty, old book. Students study at tables in the upstairs hidden rooms and a black cat keeps watch for book-borrowers (no joke). Every English Literature classic could be found on the shelves. I’d love to have just one of these rooms as a library in my house someday… one can hope. The cultural day continues into the evening when, after dinner, we attended a concert at La Sorbonne.

Easy days typically end with good writing. Last night I couldn’t begin to write. To experience life and to experience it well requires no memoir or record of events. Yesterday was just enough… even without words. I hope that the enoughness is what makes this trip memorable, not my pen.