When I was a kid, we usually took the “hippie express” Icelandair flight NYC->LUX and the night train to Paris Gard Du Nord; hotels never had rooms at 7am and the city was usually asleep, so we’d camp in the great cathedral until the cafes were ready with hot chocolate and croissants with jam. It still looks like home to me.
When I was a kid, we usually took the “hippie express” Icelandair flight NYC->LUX and the night train to Paris Gard Du Nord; hotels never had rooms at 7am and the city was usually asleep, so we’d camp in the great cathedral until the cafes were ready with hot chocolate and croissants with jam. It still looks like home to me.
That’s really nice, to have such an intimate, cosy memory tied to such a very public place.
This completely fits the character Victor Hugo gives it. Spooky, grand, imposing, yet somehow… ethereal.