In an otherwise carefully symmetrized Parisian setting, I wonder how this very high-entropy chair agglomeration formed? They aren’t set in a ring for people to chat, or even in a way that allows all of them to be used. Perhaps the grounds crew clustered them to make space for their own maintenance activities?
I have no idea why Paris lines the highly trafficked paths around the Eiffel Tower with light gravel footing that turns to thick white mud with the slightest presence of weather… But it does make reflection shots like this one possible.
A late-fall storm slicked the stones of Les Invalides and the sidewalk across the, uh, moat from it.
November afternoons end quickly—close to the winter solstice, the sun disappears while the day is still “young”. Notre Dame’s pre-fire spire looks so calm next to the pastel clouds.
The bridge that stands in this location has apparently been destroyed in various ways (usually swept away by the flooding Seine) thirteen times. I guess the fourteenth time is the charm, because the solid and secluded underside of the bridge now feels like the kind of place to hold a clandestine spy meeting.
When evening arrives in autumnal Paris, the limestone city shifts from white to gray and the shops that once blended into the background become beacons.
Look at all those taillights! When it’s time to go, it’s time to go.