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Emotions Run High at a French Market

Welcome to My Paris Journal Day 21

I cried at the market.

Before I tell you why, let me just say, I’m so proud of me and Ontonio. 

We got on the train and made it to Marché Bastille without using Wi-Fi or Google maps. 

The first time I went to the market, I had sensory overload. I was a kid in a candy store riding a rainbow unicorn.

It was mid-day. It was hotter than ten fire sides, and it was so crowded, I couldn’t move my elbow without hitting someone. 

This time, started off nice and cool. 

It was just me and that little girl running, skipping, twirling through the mist at Colonne de Juillet.

We arrived at the market around 8:30a.m. Right away I was glad I gave it a second chance. Some vendors where still setting up their stalls. It was sparse in the crowd department and like the song, our stroll was, Easy like Sunday Morning.

Okay… so here is why I cried. 

I was paying for my pains orientaux, when I heard music in the distance. It came to me, like a loved one on the dance floor. It pulled me gently towards this man. He was singing a song in French and playing his guitar. 

I stood still. Looked around. 

The bees were flying around, like they were dancing all over this patch of purple flowers.

To my right, even the water seemed to be waltzing. 

I turned back to the man. The music moved through me. I felt it so deeply, the child, the teenager, the woman in me danced. I was one with my soul, 

It was Sunday. He sang a sermon. I gave an offering.

“I want to linger a while,” Ontonio said when we sat at the cafe. Our JUST US TIME was earlier in the day and we loved it just the same.

Until next time,

Play a Little

Linger a While

+ Be Well


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