Paris, Serendipity’s Angel

 I’m back in Paris a year later.

Avril/23

Tourists… I have nothing against tourists or tourism. I am, after all a lifelong tourist… a citizen of another country from my first day out of my mother’s womb, but I have fastidiously avoided tour groups. I have no problem with other people who enjoy being herded economically through highlights of foreign places where they are ushered through a smattering of venues; where to eat, what to see, and when to meet at the bus again, without ever having to worry about getting lost or missing a flight.

Yes, I’m back in Paris. It’s been almost a year since I posted last.

 I love this city because it is full of amazement. I love being amazed around every corner. 

I made sure I got to Shakespeare and Company Bookstore early enough to beat the crowd this year. There were so many books of interest in that tiny space that caught my attention while perusing the shelves I momentarily entertained the thought to allow serendipity to choose my purchase. Of course, I preferred serendipity would be a young woman… the next beautiful woman. I dismissed the notion as soon as it occurred and scrunched down on the bench built into the shelves to read a page or two of a few unfamiliar authors. I was startled by several books plopping dropping on the floor at my feet. 

A young Asian woman had somehow caused the interruption. Did it matter that she was Asian? No. Did it matter that she was young and gorgeous? No, but too young and too gorgeous for me at my age is what matters (though I could get cancelled by the thought police for these two micro-agressions alone without even mentioning her sex or ethnicity). Frankly, I am too old to give a shit. Yes, it matters very much every time I honor serendipity by an accurate description of the vehicle she sends my way when she awakens this aging man.

Please excuse my crass disregard for the new norms I must be careful of on Facebook and Google. I am aware that a vehicle is a strange word for it too but there is a difference describing Serendipity arriving in a 1967 Ford Taurus or a 2023 Tesla.

She repeatedly apologized under the misguided opinion that she somehow disturbed my solitude. Ah, but she could never have guessed that serendipity chose her to choose my purchase. I thanked her and helped her return the fallen books back to their place on the shelves.

She mentioned that the book I had been reading looked interesting. I hadn’t been reading it at the time of the sudden interruption but agreed when I looked at the title: The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller.

I don’t think I said thank you to the girl so I’m saying it now, thank you, serendipity’s angel.

I bought that and a nice copy of Hemingway’s The Movable Feast. Never saw the girl again but the clerk assured me it was a good novel as she stamped the interior with The Shakespeare and Company seal.