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I just finished reading the Hunchback of Notre Dame, now that I could picture the church with its towers and gargoyles, and that’s what brought me back to this moment.

The church bells sounded for almost half an hour as we walked along the Seine. We had just returned by TGV from sunny Provence, and the weather in Paris was gloomy in contrast. I can’t quite remember how they sounded, like when you lose someone and you can’t quite picture her face anymore. But I can feel the solemn mesmeric tone, the wind through my coat, the pavement beneath my feet. It was one of many times when I would have traded my sketchbook in for sound recording equipment on that trip.

What I saw from Notre Dame…

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