My husband and I are in Paris, but on a somber journey. A dear friend passed away last week, and we came for the ceremony. It was beautiful, poetic... between tributes by his friends, the music he cherished and championed was played. We sat, rapt, friends, colleagues, admirers in the gorgeous crematorium at the cemetery Pere Lachaise. Chopin is here, Moliere, Michel Petrucciani. It is a stunningly beautiful Cemetery. Perhaps another time I will come walk through it's cobblestones and perfect paths.
I have had a couple of days here to wander, albeit, heavy of heart. From the Arc de Triomphe
Angel at the Arc
The funeral of General Marceau
to St. Germain,
I love the encouragement society. We all need one...
to the Marais and back through the Tuileries.
Angel with little bird on her shoulder.
I'll have to go back and see who these guys are, and where they are going... a huge downpour opened up, thunder, lightning, the works right after I took this photo. Always cathartic.
I have had vivid images of our friend running through my memory. His very French pronunciation of English, "Zeees guy was CREzzzy," his warm and generous heart, the way he used his whole body to tell a story. We will miss him so.
Walking yesterday on the tiny rue des Blancs Manteaux, there was vivid piano music pouring out of a ground floor window. The tiny corral of streets seemed to amplify the sound. There in a dark room filled with pianos, keyboards, broken things, paintings, was a man practising. I peeked through the barred windows and felt comfort - that powerful reassurance that only music seems to bring. Music is alive. Music runs through us all, and will sustain us.