Paris in February

Feb 16

When my sister flew in to meet me in Paris for a long weekend, the pressure was on—so much to see, so little time. It was mid-February, the sun was shining, and the city was alive with its signature buzz. We let go of the idea of a perfect trip and chose instead to embrace the present moment. We found ourselves immersed in the city’s energy and in conversations that felt long overdue. It was as if Paris itself had a rhythm, one that invited intimacy.

The cafés, with their tightly packed tables, seemed to pull us deeper into connection. The winding streets, the expansive gardens—they all encouraged reflection. Each corner we turned offered a space for confession. It felt liberating, even comforting, to cry amidst the crowds, the millions of people passing by unaware.

We wandered through the Picasso Museum, strolled through the Jardin des Tuileries, and waited in line for the city’s best restaurants—just like the locals. Huddled in the cold, deep in conversation, we let the city continue its dance around us.