SALT LAKE CITY — As I watched Notre Dame go up in flames Monday morning, I couldn’t help but contrast what I saw on television with an image in my mind from about a year ago. I was living in France at the time, and it was almost spring. I was walking alone in Paris, and had taken my jacket off, energized by the intoxicating atmosphere of the city at night: music, lights, open-air cafes with tables spilling out onto the streets, the whiff of cigarette smoke, snatches of conversation from couples walking by.

I was on my way to buy a train ticket for the South of France. Determined to prove to myself that I was Paris street savvy, I refused to use Google Maps to get to the station, although I wasn’t entirely certain of the way. I cut down a random side street, and when I emerged onto the main street and looked up to get my bearings, there was Notre Dame.

It glowed white, and illuminated the bare branches of trees growing around it until they glowed white, too. I could make out the arcs of each flying buttress. The spire rose to an indistinguishable point in the …read more

Source:: Deseret News – Top stories


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