 | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
(Can't) Forget Paris Series 1 of 8
 To the Louvre Rush Hour, Paris, France (June 2003) (Can't) Forget Paris The beauty of Paris has been captured a million times in poetry, films and through music. The personal memories of its beauty and grandeur created while walking along the Tuilleries Gardens or people watching at the Louvre is an eternal bliss that linger even after more than 2 months. In the next days, starting this entry, I will try to reminisce the moments in the dame's arms via a newly discovered Black and White film seated neatly inside the inner pocket of my camera bag. Just like the film - the memories I've created of the place is tuck forever in the deepest recesses of the mind. Can't Forget Paris, really. Bookmark this post on:
    |
|
| ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
