My mother joined me in Paris about a week ago, and when she expressed a desire to attend Le Louvre one rainy afternoon, I initially opted for an excuse to do something else.
The Louvre is a spectacle. Indeed, I cannot dismiss such an historical architectural element which takes up a grand area of central Paris. Oh, but the crowds and the hassle, and the amount of ground to cover sometimes just seems incredibly overwhelming. After trying to pull off some half-schemed excuses as to why I did not want to go, I remembered all the delicious meals my mom had been paying for, and I then considered the possible ones to come. With that, I swallowed my stress that sometimes surfaces amongst crowds of foreigners with cameras, and we entered the giant glass pyramid.
I am embarrassed to admit of my spoiled-child attitude towards my mother, but I can assure you that after I came face to face with a few portraits I suddenly felt content with where I was. So many moments can be quickly passed just by being absorbed with facial features. A person's face can offer so much, yet still keep an impossible amount of mystery. Even riding the metro from one end of the city to another can be entertained easily, just give me a few faces to look at. Needless to say, my afternoon at The Louvre could hardly be summed up by "looking at art" rather: I made eyes, exchanged smiles, collected mental notes of who's wearing what; the tangent I could go off on with that particular subject can be saved for another occasion, and all the mystery still remains.
Bisous,
Reba
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