At Peace In Paris

I lived for a time near a church in Paris.
The bells would ring at hours I never quite memorized.

A market appeared outside my door every Thursday and Sunday—
voices, movement, the smell of bread and something roasting.
And the metro.
Always the metro.

The tunnels had a particular sound—
fast, purposeful footsteps.
People going somewhere. Urgently.

One day, a voice came over the speaker:
“Le trafic est interrompu en raison d’un voyageur sur la voie.”

Traffic stopped. Someone was on the track.

Everything paused—
all that urgency, suddenly suspended.

I recorded all of it.
The bells. The market. The footsteps. That announcement.

Then I placed music underneath—
calm, sometimes rising toward something like joy—
and let the two exist together.

Not because Paris is peaceful.
It isn’t, always.

But because peace isn’t the absence of noise.
It’s something you carry inside it.

🎧 Listen to At Peace in Paris

I wonder — where do you find your stillness?