No photos, they said. So I sat and drew while others read and the twinkling keys beneath deft musici
No photos, they said. So I sat and drew while others read and the twinkling keys beneath deft musicians hands drifted through the shelves and leaves. And in the strokes and words and songs, those moments carried together along the created, the creating, the old yet every time new—of a touch *beyond* now bridged into our own stories too. (All made even better, accompanied by the resident cat’s purrs.) I had hoped to squeeze in one more museum my last night in Paris, with ticket all paid, but the atmosphere in this bookstore held me captive. As I started sketching, it was one of those moments when you knew you had to linger; to leave would be a regret. And then the piano started playing, and the above magic happened, and I was so thankful to have stayed. https://www.instagram.com/p/CXMP-PEOMft/?utm_medium=tumblr -- source link
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