My Paris always begins with a quiet morning at Le Marché des Enfants Rouges. The oldest covered market in the city, once saved from demolition thanks to locals who insisted on keeping it alive, wakes up slowly. The smell of couscous, warm bread, and the voices of local vendors create the feeling of a real city - not postcard Paris, but a Paris of people. I buy something small, not because I’m hungry, but to ease myself into the right rhythm of the day.
39 Rue de Bretagne, 3rd arrondissement
From there, I continue to the tip of the island, to Square du Vert-Galant. It has always felt to me like someone opened a secret door to a tiny escape: the Seine flowing by, the bridges drifting into the distance, and a quiet that washes over you like a breeze. I sit on the steps with a baguette and cheese, and suddenly everything that occupied me a minute ago - disappears. There are moments in Paris when the city simply lets you breathe.
Pont Neuf, Île de la Cité
As I make my way back into the city, I pass through Passage des Panoramas - a covered passage from 1799, with old wooden floors and a glass roof that brings in a softer kind of light. Here, time slows down. Antique shops, tiny restaurants, the feeling of an old-world Paris. I love walking there when it rains; it’s a hidden path where the outside street sounds like background music.
11 Boulevard Montmartre, 2nd arrondissement
After that, I head to La Palette. If there’s one place where Paris truly blends together - it’s here. Artists, students, writers, all squeezed together on the sidewalk, as if every good idea begins with a glass of wine. There’s always someone sketching, someone debating, someone collecting inspiration for the entire week. This place reminds me why I chose to create in the first place.
43 Rue de Seine, Saint-Germain
To unwind from all this beautiful noise, I climb up to the Musée de la Vie Romantique. A small house from 1830, a garden that feels like another world, and rooms filled with atmosphere. Here I always find a quiet kind of creativity - the sort that doesn’t need words. Just being.
16 Rue Chaptal, 9th arrondissement
Sometimes, after all this intimacy, I crave a bit of lightness. So I stop by Rue Crémieux: a short street lined with pastel-colored houses. One photo there is enough to remind you that Paris knows how to smile too, not just maintain its poise.
12th arrondissement.
And then, almost always, I end at the Jardin du Palais Royal. I sit by the fountain, watching children run between the trimmed trees and adults trying to ignore the place’s perfect beauty. The famous Buren columns stand off to the side like an opening scene to an ever-changing picture. This is where I pause - to gather everything I saw, felt, and thought that day.
1st arrondissement.
This is my Paris: tiny threads of moments, places that tell a story, and air that fills the mind with new ideas. None of these spots are just ‘another pin on the map,’ but the beginning of fresh inspiration.
