As I was in the midst of crossing one of my favorite 6th Arrondissement streets, in the Saint-Germain des Près area, I looked down. Which I always do when crossing streets anywhere.

That’s what happens when you’ve been known to fall or trip over parts of sidewalks — you’re consistently looking to make sure you aren’t going to either miss a step or a chance to get intimate with the pavement.

This afternoon I was totally that person when I saw this message on the ground — the one who stops as soon as reaching the other side of the street while tons of people are busily coming from behind and head on. And then everyone has to re-route themselves to pass that annoying person whose just standing there. And holding shit up. Yep, totally me. I became that person I always silently curse.

Call it a touristique moment.

I just couldn’t walk by such a great and joyful message as : look at the sky. I mean, really now! How damn fabulous is that! Naturally, I did exactly what it told me to do. I looked up.

But it’s hard to stand on a busy street corner looking up. So I found the nearest bench and continued my upward gazing.

How many times do I, do you, do we take the time to look up? Such a simple, simple thing. One that barely even takes any time, yet is so very grounding. It’s something I’m going to strive to do everyday now.

To be reminded of how expansive and continuous the blue or gray or black mass above us is. Just as our own lives are.

Yes, this … this looking at the sky … it, too, is love.