June 12, 2002
R. D. Kushner

Half way up the steps to Sacré Coeur my mouth went dry; but I didn't want to drink anything in except the view.

Two guitarists were playing Simon and Garfunkel and the chatter of a dozen different languages could be heard, all at the same time.

The city laid itself out before me; its streets hidden in a continuous fabric of rooftops and windows that was occasionally interrupted by the breadth of a church nave or the grace of a gilded dome.

It was beautiful, and so I cried; just a little, so that I would remember it in my dreams.