Paris

T and I spent last week in Paris.  I’m going to skip all the “Wow, it was lovely” stuff and go directly to one of my favourite memories:  in the catacombs, surrounded by piles and piles and piles of human femurs and skulls, we fell into conversation with a man who was talking to his companion about the ephemeral nature of our physical existence (a natural topic, to be sure, in such a setting).  Even graves are not necessarily permanent; he was saying that after a century, corpses (in Europe, anyway) are routinely disinterred and the bones dumped into “bone wells,” to make room in the cemeteries for the freshly dead.  Hence the appeal of religion (he said importance, but I’m editorializing here); if our physical bodies clearly decay, then the only possibility for immortality is through something Other.  He also said that Rome’s catacombs are even more striking than Paris’.  I said it was a pleasure talking to him as we took our leave, and he replied that perhaps we would be neighbours in the next life.  I told him I’d look forward to it.

Not directly related, here are a few shots of me practising yoga in front of famous monuments:

Hangin' with BKS Iyengar in padmasana urdhva hastasana in front of the Eifel Tower.

Louvrasana

And a lovely shot of me and T in the Eifel Tower:

I am scared of heights.

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