Avenue d'Iéna (Shangri-La)

The physicality of Paris holds as much beauty as its intangible je ne sais quoi.

Walking from Charles de Gaulle Etoile, towards the Tour Eiffel my eye is treated to a building topped so perfectly in grey zinc it appears to have been drawn into the vivid blue sky. And yes; purposely topped, like an energetic young school boy hatted by his proud mother who knows that it doesn’t take much to make her already beautiful child presentable. Human beauty fades but the beauty of these buildings will only become deeper and shine more brilliantly as the years pass.

And what secret allows for the arrangement of a naturally chaotic world into such neat and perfect order? One of the many to be found in that grid of perfect streets I'm sure. Quietly hosting a gathering of old associations made up of exclusive members. Sturdily supporting a scattering of police vans outside distinguished buildings. Shangri-La is present here but why do I imagine the conduct of those whose fortunes admit them there to be less than heavenly?
I don't trust myself to travel anymore, unlucky me. But to Paris I never really travelled or was never a tourist. I more wished for admittance. My body can leave but my mind won’t let me; fitting, as my love of Paris has always been ruled by my mind – my body not so much.