The Climb

One of the strange feelings I love is getting a postcard long after the loved one is already home. I've already hugged them, caught up on our lives over dinner or a drink, and the world feels right again to have them back with me. And one day I come home and there in the mailbox is a carte postale, reaching over to me from the past like a ghost of something that once was.

So I'll have a few more post(card)s for you, reaching out to you like a memory.

One of the many things France does right are les escaliers. Everywhere I went, there were spiral staircases leading here and there. (I've longed for a spiral staircase of my own since childhood. I'm very easy to please.) Especially cafés and restaurants, with limited space on the ground floor, have their toilettes down below, accessible by gorgeous spiral staircase.

Stairs in a nook with boutiques, near the Louvre.


Stairs leading to le premiere étage of La Tour Eiffel.


et juste à côté


Stairs from Elsa's doorstep.


From the Saint-Michel Metro station.


Stairs of Montmartre



Getting onto the Bato Bus on the Seine


In the Musée de Montmartre, home of artists galore


In Le Grand Palais



In Parc Butte-Chaumont


at the Fondation Henri Cartier-Bresson


Some toilette some where


En Ardèche



At Sainte-Chapelle



At la maison de Monet


At Hotel Rex


À Nice




Some toilette some where


And in the Louvre.


avec l'amour,
*jenna*