At once, I became aware of this elderly man’s most intimate hankering, a mere mask for what he truly desires — what we all desire: Acceptance… Acceptance for the person we are when we are at our most vulnerable, and if possible, to not only be accepted, but to also be wanted in our most vulnerable state. When we feel that we are wanted, we have this sense that the reciprocated actions are not merely mechanical, but authentic expressions of love, of feelings so strong they had to be expressed outwardly, however fleeting these feelings may be.Read More
We turned the corner and walked along a deserted and unlit, Rue du Cloître-Notre-Dame. The almost century old Notre-Dame towered above us on the right, and ancient apartment buildings flanked us on the left.
He turned towards one of these apartment blocks. We entered a glass and steel door and stepped into a dark, unmanned foyer. We got into a brightly lit, yellow, wood-paneled lift, barely large enough for the two of us. Neither said a word as we ascended. We reached, what seemed to be the top floor and stepped into the corridor. We arrived at a white door. Patrick unlocked it and it swung open quietly.Read More
Completely spellbound, I stepped out from the womb of the cathedral, back into my temporary tourist life. Underneath the night sky, on the piazza in front of the Notre-Dame, fire breathers entertained scores of tourists. I ambled among the crowds in search of my American brother-and-sister-from-another-mother.
A stout, dark figure appeared in front of me. He wore a black shirt, buttoned all the way up, throttling his neck, on an all-too-warm summer’s evening. Over his shirt he wore an elegant, black blazer and dark trousers. His large frame loomed over me.Read More