The food. Oh, the food. Perhaps unsurprisingly, some of my most distinct memories of Paris were focused on food:
Slathering fresh butter on warm, perfectly crusted bread in an ex-pat bar while the red wine buzz came in strong.
The thick smell of fresh pig fat bubbling over in boiling water to make ramen broth.
Creative and artful delicacies, subtly sweetened, beckoning on every corner—and hardly ever resisting the temptation.
Sharing a cappuccino with Sam at the Musée d’Orsay’s Café Campana, a fluttering rush of joy in my chest from seeing him for the first time in over a week.
Culinary masterpieces artfully arranged in display cases, impossibly bizarre and enticing.
Scarfing a defyingly tasty vegan burger in the spring sunshine en route to the Centre Pompidou.
Cradling a warm, chocolately crepe in my hands after a night boat tour on the Seine, huddled together against the cold with my DePaul classmates on our last evening together.
Unassuming street markets filled with raw meats, aged cheeses, piles of spices, and fresh vegetables, the air buzzing with the soft, romantic loll of French.
Suffice to say, these photos don’t need explanation: they speak for themselves.