Sunday Morning in Paris
What I love most about waking up on a Sunday morning in Paris is that there’s nowhere else I’d rather be. In bed, in Paris, drinking my favorite tea. Listening to the rustling of the trees just outside of my windows, si verts! I listen to the faint sounds of voices below and am grateful for this time, to be alive and well. This morning I think of all the lovely people who leave me floating on air before and after spending time with them. One of these people is Madame V. of Caravane. Look at her! Effortless beauty! The truly beautiful shine from within. How she shines! I could go on an on about how patient, kind, creative (my goodness!) and warm she is but I won’t because you and I don’t have that kind of time. All that I will say is that knowing someone like her makes my life that much more sweeter.
Bon Vacance Veronique!
