when I was nineteen, I found myself staying for the first time in Paris in a hostel just at the base of Montmarte, off metro station Blanche. It forever became the imprinted picture of feelings and memories, the first impression of falling into the rabbit hole of Paris.
Each time I revisit this lovely place of never ending steps leading to the sky, I discover something new. A shop, a restaurant, a painting, and always a new opening of the incredible views and intriguing old buildings.
This time I was the guide, and our destination was Espece Dali, with a walk up a hill to Sacre Couer Basilica and Place du Tertre.
The sun was out, and it seemed like the happiest day to be alive.
a new discovery; a perfum shop with old fashioned spray bottles and the gargoyles on Sacre-Coeur!
Our final destination, the only museum of Dali in France was spectacular. Most of the pieces I had never seen, such as the sculplure of Alice(not pictured here), watercolours and lithographs. All magnetic, sensual, and exceptionally funny. To quote my partner in crime, “outwardly confused, inwardly perfect”.