“Every act of creation is first of all an act of destruction”… Pablo Picasso

Essential Paris…Living in a city in February lends itself to a more frenetic lifestyle. It is cool and windy enough that being outside is best in shorter segments and then with a little movement. When the wind quiets, it seems warm and a cafe or park attracts us to linger, but again the wind picks up and we move on to one of the offers of Paris. 
We have carved out some time today to return to the Marais. The Picasso museum is there. We have visited before and found this time the exhibit has been reorganized and refocused.

We remembered the works set out along with the story of his life, his wife Olga, his son, his mistress Marie, and onto his celebrity. This time, the narrative is more introspective, shedding light on his process, his influences and his influence.
After our visit earlier the week to the Quai Branly with the intriguing pieces from Oceana and Africa particularly attracting us, we found a room in

Picasso’s museum dedicated to his interest in those early pieces and influencing him with their geometric shapes. Again the threads run through our exploration. 
The Magic Pictures as they are dubbed by a friend and art critic of Picasso show his evolution, his move from realistic depictions to a more evocative and emotional presentation of his subject.

His signature forms of angles and curves oddly harkens to the art of Oceana of long ago. Each room in the museum had a quote or comment that set the work off giving insight to his art. One quote said of Picasso, he was aware of his malarial fits of invention.
After Picasso we plan to visit the Museum of Art and History of Judaism. We have been reading several novels set in Europe during World War ll. The museum here focuses on the community that developed and the contributions of Jewish artists. Chagall and Adler are represented as well as examples of menorahs and traditional ceremonial vestments from various parts of the world.

In the center of the Marais on a Sunday afternoon, there are many people out with their families.The neighborhood is dotted with Yiddish bakeries and

falafel shop whose lines curve down the narrow street. We join one line and place our order with the older man who takes takes our contactless credit, gives us a slip with a code scribbled on it to present when we reach the window. At the window, another man takes the slips, questions – spicy? And with a speed that appears like a video fast forwarded, fills a pita pocket with crisp delicious vegetables, falafel and sauce, wraps it, and moves on to the next customer. And it is delicious! Nearly everyone we pass is engrossed in this delightful treat. Benches and sidewalks are full of people noshing this scrumptious delight. Even now we think of when we will return for another!

While the light is good we pass the wall of panels narrating the fire at Notre Dame. Photos of the crowd that gathered as she burned are heart wrenching.

The subsequent panels describe the clean up and restoration. Due to the unstable and carcinogenic conditions that may exist in the cathedral, remote controlled robots are clearing debris. Hazmat suits are worn by the engineers who enter and are carefully monitored. Photos depict the tagging of debris for either for recreation or for archeologic study of the conditions and material used during the construction ( 1163- 1345). The stained glass has been removed and is safely stored. Heavy clear plastic sheets cover the window openings to protect it from the elements. From the ground it appears as of clear glass windows are in place until closer inspection.

The buttresses have been reinforced with new wooden timbers. The give a sense of strength and of hope. Scaffolding is everywhere along the side and across the nave and transept. There was scaffolding across the roof for the restoration work that was underway at the time of the fire. These scaffolds are a tangled, melted web that has complicated the clean up. 
A somber and reverent mood permeates the streets surrounding Notre Dame. The spire is gone, but still the two bell towers anchor the Paris skyline and herald the heart of the city.

We attend an evening service at the church Saint Suplice. It is a beautiful church and in the darkness of the evening glows with candlelight and electrified chandeliers. The white marble statuary is eye-popping against grey stone pillars and columns. In massive scale on the walls of the chapels around the church are the murals of Eugène Delacroix. In the choir loft high at the entrance of the church is the exquisite and world famous organ. This church is known also for always employing a world class organist. Mass in this place is very hallowed.(but in a nod to the present, when they pass the collection basket, one is for cash and the other has a  contactless credit card machine!).