some things in life are so beautiful they hurt

i was twenty-two, wandering alone.

paris, basking in the early sunlight, still rubbing the sleep from its eyes.

my boyfriend was midway through a tattoo appointment, so i had been handed a pocket of morning to drift through.

up near sacré-cœur, the hill was laced with small cobbled streets interconnected by stone stairways, rinsed in a buttery light that made the pale buildings look almost edible.

Source: Pinterest

a florist was muscling metal buckets onto the pavement. outside a café, a few red tables and woven chairs stood stacked together. the air, rich with the scent of freshly baked baguettes, croissants and pain au chocolat; a familiar smell paris seemed to exhale each morning.

i meandered aimlessly without a plan, turning down whichever lane looked most promising. every passage seemed to lead to some smaller, lovelier one.

a young boy passed me on a bicycle balancing a baguette under one arm as if he had done it all his life.

then, a woman in a navy cardigan stepped out of her building with her lil’ puppy and a packet of cigarettes, blinking into the brightness as if the morning had surprised even her.

i remember thinking that the city looked best before it had been freckled with one too many tourists, each of them lingering, viewing the city through their iPhone camera lens instead of their own pair of perfectly functioning eyes.

i found myself in a boulangerie, buying a croissant i did not particularly need, but how could i resist? before stepping back into the street, i briefly turned my head to pronounce “merci, au revoir!” butchered by my thick yorkshire accent.

i carried it in a brown paper bag that warmed my hands through the greaseproof lining. i did not sit down to eat it. i continued wandering, tearing pieces from it, flakes of it falling onto my dress.

Source: Pinterest

i had wanted mornings like that for years without quite saying so. to be alone in a foreign city with nowhere urgent to be, following the smell of bread through the side streets while the day gathered itself around me. it felt too surreal to touch with my bare hands.

then, i came to a sudden halt. my feet stopped pressing forward. a dense ache settled in my chest as i felt the pain of just how beautiful this moment was.

i think there are only a few things in this world that are so beautiful they hurt. but if you look for them, you’ll find them. i’ve collected a handful of my own over the years:

1. walking past a lit window at night and catching a second of someone else’s life, people at a table, laughing, and feeling the weight of how many worlds there are that you’ll never be inside.

2. the last song at a live gig. that exact moment when everyone in the room knows this is it, before it ends.

3. reading something you wrote in a journal ten years ago and recognising yourself completely, knowing that person had absolutely no idea what was coming.

4. watching the sunrise or sunset along the sea horizon.

5. realising mid-conversation with a someone that this is one of the best conversations you’ve ever had, and that it’s going to end when one of you stand up.

6. watching a stranger in public read a book you love, not knowing what page they’re on but having a general idea based on their facial expressions.

7. asking an elderly person what they were like when they were young and watching their face change while they remember.

8. watching somebody you love talk about something they’re passionate about.

9. a summer thunderstorm breaking after days of heat.

10. standing on the beach at dusk, as it snows.

i think, the only thing i truly strive for in life, is to collect more of these moments until i have enough to piece together an equisite mosaic and be able to call it my life.

-o.c.