Today I came across this old picture I took some years ago while showing around some friends on a tour through the city. They came to visit Paris and we took some time to stroll the small streets of the Marais quarter and to stop by the Pompidou on our way back south to the Seine river. I remember how amazed they were by the little bookstalls on the riverbanks. We crossed on one of the bigger bridges and went all the way to the Institut du Monde Arabe with its great view over the city’s roofs. We sat on the boarder of the water, having a make-do apéro from a small supermarket and watching a class of Tango dancers learn and practice their step with the sinking sun.
We headed back north, all along the river, passed Saint Michel and finally crossed the small wooden bridge – le pont des Arts – crowded with tourists and hip parisians, wine bottles and music instruments to reach the Louvre. With the last rays of sunlight we took a glimpse at its impressive interior – to return the next day to see more of it from the inside out. I have kept this picture in mind – of all the places we had seen in those view hours, this was the most precious time.