At the End of a Journey

I haven't updated in a while. I fail.

We are nearly at the end of our time in Paris, and I realize now that we need to post pictures both of the monuments we have seen, as well as the every day things that we experience.

It's a lot like when I was atop the Arc de Triumph a couple weeks back. All the world was a glitter with these lights- one bleeding into the next and setting the world alight. Yet, how wonderful is the world down on the streets. How wonderful was the world sitting outside a Paris café talking with my French conversation leader and his girlfriend from Madrid? The first trip Kate and I took through Paris streets seeing apartments older than we are, and leading to a church older than the nation of France.

---

The rain falls differently here. It falls outside markets and in parks, on international students' dorms, and just outside the window to the room I called home. The rain falls on different people here. The rain falls in the streets as people scurry home with bread for dinner just under their arms. It saturates this world with words I don't know and with attitudes I don't seem to understand. This world is awash with this fresh rain that brings not newness, but a new sense of the old. Rain has fallen on people here since before the oldest church was built here- and it will fall forever, washing this world with a constant history. All the while, new people will walk beneath it.

So we are leaving Paris- we are leaving this every day life in a little less than two weeks- and then we become new strangers in new places. I wonder how the rain falls in Barcelona?