Paris moves at a different frequency—slower, softer, unhurried. People linger, they look, they actually live. It’s a rhythm that feels wonderfully un-American in the best way.
And every time I’m here, I’m reminded to slow down too—to step off the constant treadmill of American life and remember there’s more to living than the rat race.
These are my postcards from Paris… quiet moments, small gestures, and the kind of beauty that only appears when you finally let yourself breathe.