A Paris Pandemic Diary

Photographs by Peter Turnley

Visual Diary Entry 60 — July 13, 2020

Diary Entry 60 — July 13, 2020

Starting a new week with a café, and grace, Paris. 

Wishing everyone a wonderful new week. 

Visual Diary Entry 59 — July 12, 2020

Diary Entry 59 — July 12, 2020

A weekend in the country, France.

For the past now almost 40 years, I have been a very urban kind of guy. Though I was raised in the heartland of the US, in an industrial city of Ft. Wayne, Indiana, and have grandparents that came from rural backgrounds—my life has been spent for the last many decades in the major cities of the world, Paris, New York, Havana, Istanbul, Berlin, Moscow, Rome, Lisbon, Jerusalem, London, Madrid, and Belfast.

The notion of spending a weekend in the countryside has been as foreign to me as having a job in an office, which I have never had, even for one day. I have heard all of my life, particularly in Paris, of the notion of "une maison à la campagne" (a country house)—but I have certainly never had one—and don't know anything about that life.

Well—this past weekend in the village of Martagny, in Normandy—a region with such dense history—particularly for so of our parents that were of military age during the Normandy invasion of World War II—this weekend in the country opened up my mind and heart to the incredible rejuvenating energy of beautiful, quiet, sensual, farm landscape with light, wind, clouds, trees with leaves that bristle, and most importantly—with local people with their feet solidly on the ground—with no need for pretense, and with an open heart to ideas, art, and open arms to people bringing stories from elsewhere.

The night of the opening of my exhibit in this village—at a village wine bar with about 50 people present—I stood up and made a toast celebrating the spirit of each one present ,our common borderless humanity, and a moment together of simple celebration with a glass of wine, an summer night with beautiful light, in a country whose values overall have moved me my whole life. I'll never forget the heartfelt applause in response by the community of a rural village in France. A war was won, through Normandy in 1944. A war that we are currently living through worldwide with covid, was punctuated by a small personal victory of hope and renewal with a weekend the country, in Martagny, Normandy, France—over this last weekend. As I returned to Paris on the train last night, I spoke to passengers around me, and watch the flashing lights across France that intermingled with my happily tired mind after an intense but extraordinary two days in Martagny. Viva la France. With love.

Visual Diary Entry 58 — July 9, 2020

Diary Entry 58 — July 9, 2020

Paris light and shadows. 

This morning, I was walking in the spectacular morning light of this morning in Paris on my way to my favorite museum, Le Musée Rodin, and as I was walking, a shadow passed by, and I lifted my camera and voila. Wishing everyone a wonderful day. 
With love.

Visual Diary Entry 57 — July 8, 2020

Diary Entry 57 — July 8, 2020

A new day, Paris. 

This morning, as I was having my first double espresso at Café de Flore, I turned to my right to see Vassa, originally from Siberia, now living in Paris and an opera singer, getting ready for a new day. 

Vision and moments we see are complex and fascinating. Proust spoke much about how smell, taste, sound, touch, and other sensory impulses can trigger memory. We all have as well visual references that trigger memory, feelings, and response. I always loved the black and white fashion photographs of the 1950's such as the Vogue photographs of those times. This morning, in the present of 2020, on a beautiful Paris morning in the middle of uncertain times—I was taken back to a different époque, very much in the present. Wishing everyone a wonderful start to a new day. With love. 

Visual Diary Entry 56 — July 6, 2020

Visual Diary Entry 55 — July 6, 2020

Diary Entry 55 — July 6, 2020

A day for history—Le Louvre is open!

I will complete this diary entry with stories in the morning—but before I sleep tonight, I would like to share this historic day of possibly the world's greatest museum, Le Louvre, showing the world that art, culture, knowledge, and beauty will help us win this world war against coronavirus, and that our humanity expressed through art, will always prevail. Being present in the Louvre today was one of the most moving days of my life. 
With love.

Visual Diary Entry 53 — July 5, 2020

Diary Entry 53 — July 5, 2020

Two days ago, I encountered a Parisian photographer on the street and we spoke for awhile, and he told me when he was younger, he became a photographer because he thought photographs could change the world. This has long been a debate, and while in a modest way, I would be among those that still have some faith in this concept—what I do know is that the stories I encounter and change my world—and every day make me grateful to be alive.

On this 4th of July weekend, I have walked all over Paris, from morning to night—and the humanity of this moment, in a city like New York that is literally a representation of the United Nations with people born all over the world—and all living now in Paris—the mosaic of life particularly noticeable at a time when there are virtually no tourists, is simply breathtaking.

Over the past two days, I encountered Ruta from Eritrea; , Madeleine 86, and Frankie who brought his grandmother from St. Denis to see the Arc de Triumph for the first time since the lockdown; Mamadou and Miriam both Mali, who have been together for 3 years, and Miriam spent her first three months in France confined; Monsieur Henri who told me he comes from a family of warriors and has withstood this period well; , Patricia who is 70 and is homeless now for one month and told me as we parted ways—"Peter—protect your heart—life can be violent; Akee—from Afghanistan jumping rope in front of the Eiffel Tour; , Zoé enjoying a Saturday morning café at Café de Flore; , Sarah from Brazzaville who quit her job during the lockdown and has started a new tee-shirt enterprise; Ditl from Moldova singing in the métro for money; Laura and Loup kissing each other after a moment of magic getting together again after first being together 12 years ago; Nadia who is homeless and sleeps in the doorway of one of the most chic shopping streets in the world—Faubourg St. Honoré; , Irina and Misha from the Ukraine teaching their one year old son how to figuratively fly in front of the Eiffel Tour; ,Julien and H. in love on a street in Le Marais, and Jasmine from Brazil who has just succeeded in entering a prestigious Paris music school, standing on the Champs-Elysées.

In a way, I walk the streets of New York and Paris now, as a way of giving meaning to my own life at this time. We've all been turned a bit upside down during these months. But, our human family is strong, and beautiful, and it is the people among us—everywhere, when we walk and keep our heads up, and our hearts open—that will show us the way—and give us leadership, and direction. With love.

Visual Diary Entry 52 — July 4, 2020

Diary Entry 52 — July 4, 2020

Diary Entry 52 — June 30, 2020

On this 4th of July, I send love to all from Paris. 

After making this photograph, I spoke to this young couple, Fanny and Julien, in the gardens of Palais Royal- they were married this very morning in the 2nd arrondissement of Paris. 

Wishing them, and all of us, a long life, full of love, joy, kindness, courage, and compassion. 

Visual Diary Entry 51 — July 3, 2020

Diary Entry 51 — July 3, 2020

An update about Monsieur Roger. 

Some of you will remember a story I wrote on June 20 about a gentleman named Roger who is homeless that I met at a café terrace one morning (I am reposting that story below for anyone who missed it). 

This evening, as I was walking on the Ile St Louis, I saw a man walking alone below along the banks of the Seine. He was wearing a casquette and immediately I recognized him as being Roger. I called out to him and he walked up the steps to my level along the river bank. He remembered my name and asked me in French, "how are you doing Peter?" I had seen him one other night recently sitting alone on a bench and we had also spoken then for about an hour. This was now the third time I have run in to him. I told him I was walking to see people dancing along the Seine and he said, "I walk alone all of the time—do you mind if I join you." I said of course and we began to walk. I asked him how he was doing and he told me with a smile that he had met a woman and they had seemed to hit it off well, and in a few days, he has a date with her. I told him that was wonderful and something very nice to look forward to. He said to me with a hopeful smile, "I think she might be interested in me". We walked awhile and as I walked I said to Roger, "you know Roger, you seem like a really nice guy". And Roger replied, "Peter, you too seem like a really nice guy to me!"

Well, I tell you. On the eve of this 4th of July, in a quiet Paris, that seems more like a village than a busy urban city—with the low hanging clouds and light of a summer night during a time that is different than any I've ever know—and different than any time any of us have ever known—where so much is in question in front of us, and when we depend on hope, and a sense that things well naturally get better—but not knowing when—well—being told by Roger, or anyone that you are a nice guy—well , that is enough for now. That's about all I or anybody could ask for. I hope its' true, but I know I'll keep trying, and won't forget my good fortune in life—along side the courage and hope of the Rogers of our world. With love.

Visual Diary Entry 49 — July 3, 2020

Diary Entry 49 — July 3, 2020

There is usually more than one side to every story. Last night as I crossed on to the Ile St. Louis, I came across this scene of a fashion photo shoot taking place on a bridge, with the amazing light of summer. Scenes such as this, of renewed activity in the streets of Paris are becoming more common now as Paris and France emerge slowly from lock down. With love. 

Visual Diary Entry 48 — June 30, 2020

Visual Diary Entry 47 — June 29, 2020

Diary Entry 47 — June 29, 2020

In 1978, when I returned to live full time in Paris, I rented a room on the Boulevard Barbès very near the Métro stop Barbès, one of the most ethnically diverse neighborhoods of Paris. I have lived through the first four months of the world war against Covid-19 in two of the most interesting, beautiful, energetic and diverse cities in the world, New York and Paris. I love both cities and much of what I love about them both is the wonderful rich mosaic of human diversity representing such a wonderful reality of our human family worldwide.

Yesterday I returned to my old neighborhood and walked all afternoon. I encountered Josephine having her hair braided by Ange in a hair salon on the rue Poulet. I met three butchers, Ahmed, Djilali, and Said, immigrants from Morocco, Algeria, and Tunisia, and made a portrait at the “Boucherie Hamdane Tej, Boulevard de la Chapelle — when I lived in Barbès their shop was a café. I walked down the Boulevard Magenta where there are now many shops with beautiful wedding dresses and men’s formal wear highlighting the special occasions of life.

Carmen and Sylvain, originally from the Ivory Coast stopped to speak to me near the Métro Marx Dormoy. Madhi, 25, originally from Somalia stopped to speak against the wonderful graffiti of the rue Marcadet. On my way to this neighborhood, I met Imed and Sarah, riding north on the train with their new 13th month son, Assil Enzo.

When I became a French citizen a year ago, during the official welcoming ceremony for new French citizens, a very moving video and speech was given speaking of the values of “Liberté, Egalité, and Fraternité”. I cherish those values and feel honored to try to represent them. I have traveled now to more than 90 countries in my lifetime, and have never been overly concerned by the ideas of nationalism and national frontiers. If I could choose, I’d first and foremost choose to be a citizen of the world. I feel at home everywhere and my heart over time has had particular attachment to the idea of home in New York, Paris and Havana. But, more than ever before — with this world war against Covid-19 which is a war against us all — my home is with the hearts of my brothers and sisters everywhere.

With love.

Visual Diary Entry 46 — June 29, 2020

Diary Entry 46 — June 29, 2020

The world war on coronavirus has taken a turn for the worse. Where as many countries that took the epidemic very seriously and mandated tight lockdowns for several months are now emerging from this deadly plague, others, in particularly the United States, are seeing more cases than ever per day and the war is entering a critical phase. 

As I have been now documenting with this visual diary in Paris for now over a month, I realize that in many ways this diary is more important than ever before as it appears likely that the European Union will decide Americans will not be welcome to travel overseas and enter countries like France for awhile—and never in our lifetimes have we know a situation where so many people will be far from places they love, and miss so profoundly the memories of their travels and their freedom. Anyone that will ignore that this is largely the responsibility of the lack of presidential leadership in countries like the US and elsewhere will be seriously overlooking the realities that will affect millions with yet more difficulty in at least the very near future. With time, we will look back and unlike the heroes of World War II, these men will be considered a stain on our collective history.

Yesterday, I met Eugenie and Jean, 90 and 92, walking down the street. Jean was walking very slowly with two canes and Eugenie was very lovingly accompanying him a long the way. We spoke. They have been married since 1952—68 years. I asked them what the secret was to their love. Eugenie replied, "there is no secret—you must listen to one another and try to always understand the other person." Jean smiled and said, "well, I was a bachelor when I met Eugenie and I knew when I met her she was the right choice—and it is not complicated—she was the right choice!" I asked them how they compared this period to World War II and Eugenie said, "its' worse now—we are now confronting an enemy and we don't where it is, and where it will come from, and for how long it will be here". 

My morning started in a bit of a surreal fashion—one of the constant beauties of life in Paris are the quirky unexpected occurrences one can encounter upon this amazing urban landscape—as I passed the Pyramids du Louvre, there was an oriental dance troupe (belly dancing) making a music video in the morning light against the famous Louvre pyramid. 

Over the course of the past two days—I saw many people together—often in couples, relaxing and being together during this time when everything has somewhat slowed down: Chantal walking with her 94 year old mother Odette; Lise and Florence enjoying a morning café conversation; Mamour, 70, from Senegal dancing on the banks of the Seine with Chantal;
Roger and Marie, from the Montmartre neighborhood—now friends for the past 4 years, sitting on a bench behind the Eiffel Tour for an afternoon conversation; Moussa and Jessy, 26, a young couple sitting affectionately together near the Eiffel Tour, dreaming of a future vacation to Cuba; 4 young friends from the 14th Arrondissement taking selfies in front of the Eiffel Tour, with parents from Morrocco, The Congo, Ivory Coast, and the Mauritius Islands; and Hoxha, 29, originally from Albania, standing with her outstretched arms admiring the Notre Dame Cathedral. 

André sat alone with his elegant Sunday morning hat and cane at the restaurant Léon. After photographing I walked inside to say hello, and he told me, "I've got much better hats than this one". 

It is easy to say things like we will get through this, though I actually know we will. While the world struggles, I will continue to share each day as long as I can, the humanity of so many people—doing their best, with grace, to endure these times with grace and heart. With love from Paris. 

Visual Diary Entry 45 — June 26, 2020

Diary Entry 45 — June 26, 2020

The human spirit was meant to fly!

Yesterday afternoon, as the Eiffel Tour opened to visitation for the first time since Paris lockdown, I walked on the Champs de Mars behind the Tour. As I walked, I saw a small group of parents and children playing a game together, laughing and running back and forth. I heard them speaking Spanish and introduced myself in Spanish and sat and watched them play for awhile. Eventually they sat down on a blanket and began to listen to some music—Edith Piaf. I asked them where they were from and they told me they had immigrated from Colombia. They asked where I had learned to speak Spanish and I told them mostly in Cuba. 

At one point, as the group sat speaking and laughing together, I heard a young man, a father, ask a young girl with them who was French, what the words to Edith Piaf's song meant. The young girl Daphné explained that the particular line in the song he was referring spoke of memory. He replied with a very serious tone—"ah-memory-yes-so important". 

Soon, a young five-year-old girl, Melania, began to play by herself with the Eiffel Tour in the background. I asked her young mother, Natalia, 21, if I could make some photographs. She replied of course. I watched as Melania jumped cart wheels, ran in all directions, and then began to throw a ball in the air and dance as she would wait to catch it. 

I made this photograph, and looked at the back of my camera and had my breath taken a way for a second. I spoke to her mother Natalia and asked her how things had been during the lockdown. She looked down, quite serious, and said, "it was not easy—we lived in one small room together and could never go out." I asked her if she worked and she told me she worked cleaning houses but couldn't work during the lockdown. She had immigrated as a single mother at the age of 20 with her then 4 year old daughter to France only one year ago. Within seconds, a smile came back on Natalia's face as she saw Melania continuing to play, and she joined in picking up a few of the young children there spinning around in circles as they hugged each other and laughed loudly. 

I spoke to a young man, a friend in the group, and a father—the gentleman who was trying to learn French asking about the translation of the Piaf song, and said to him that I could tell from the playful spirit of the group that they were confronting the difficult time and moment with beautiful spirit. He laughed and said to me in Spanish, "our only choice is to stay relaxed" and he laughed and joined in playing again with the children. 

I walked home across Paris and thought about this group of immigrants from Colombia, making such a beautiful moment together, sitting, running, playing, speaking, and laughing together with only a blanket on the ground, among grass, the Eiffel Tour, and the beautiful light of a summer night. 

I thought of Natalia and Melania, in a small room, locked down together at the age of 21 and 5 in a new, foreign country, and their life ahead. With their smiles, and their laughter, their dancing, and their joy—I know they will go forward in life and teach us all something about how to live. They have already shown at this young age, with their spirit that nothing will and can keep them down. I sit here on my bed this morning, as I write this—in tears, thinking of them—and thinking what beauty of life they offered my heart. And they give me courage too. With love. 

Visual Diary Entry 44 — June 26, 2020

Entry 44 — June 26, 2020

Fatoumata, Paris.Today the Eiffel Tour opened for the first time since the beginning of the Paris lockdown. I went to the Esplanade de Trocadero which is a place I visit often and always love the perspective and juxtapositions of people relating in one way or the other to this symbol that is so important to so many regarding their vision and notion of Paris. I saw Fatoumata, 40, trying to make a self portrait with her phone and asked if I could help her. After making a few photographs for her with her phone, I asked if I could make a portrait with my camera and she said of course. She has been living in Paris for the past 20 years and is originally from Abidjan, of the Ivory Coast. She explained to me that she had been, like all Parisians restricted to staying inside for the first two months of the lockdown and today was a special day for her to come and visit the Eiffel Tour. She explained to me that for this occasion she was wearing the traditional dress of the Dyula, an ethnic group inhabiting several West African countries, including the Mali, Cote d'Ivoire, Ghana, and Burkina Faso.I wanted to make a portrait today that related to this special day of the opening of a Tour that is such an important symbol to so many. I am grateful to Fatoumata for this photograph, certainly denoting the grandeur of this wonderful moment as Paris slowly yet surely emerges from lockdown. With love. 

Visual Diary Entry 43 — June 25, 2020

Diary Entry 43 — June 25, 2020

There are no rules in photography, and if there were, they should be broken. Moreover, I don't often like to speak about photography and generally prefer to speak about the themes of life I photograph. It is wonderful and essential that there is not only one way to photograph or look at the world—and we are all so much better off that, like human stories themselves, that there can be so many different visions of life. I often love to see photographs and a vision different than mine—particularly when it touches my heart and helps me learn more about our world. I also have approached photography in many different ways—sometimes in a very "decisive moment" spirit without disturbing a story I see, and try to frame the moment without intervening and disturbing the authenticity of a candid moment. Other times—making direct contact with people, and with time, patience, and connection, share a part of their world expressed by their eyes and expressions. 

I most often like to be very close to people I photograph—so that the viewer of my photographs can feel that they to are there within intimate distance of a moment—rather than simply looking at it. I have always been a strong believer in Capa's words that "if your photographs are not good enough it is because you are not close enough". I have always thought the true meaning of that was not intended to speak about being close to the end of a barrel of a gun in conflict situations—but rather close in terms of the implication of the heart to a moment. I also think in terms of framing—one can some times be too close and it is worthwhile to let a situation breathe and also offer the environmental context giving more force to the essential story of a moment. 

I also have often thought that the difference between a "snapshot" and a "photograph" is that a snapshot is when someone looks at the camera and a "photograph" is more often when someone gives the viewer access through their eyes and expression and body language to a more soulful part of their world. 

Well—there you have it—I've already said much more about photography than I'd like to—and anyone reading this should relish the opportunity to disagree and teach us all about the wonders of the world through their own vision and way of communicating. Also—my own vision and approach hopefully is not static and can change and be altered at any moment. 

Two days ago, I rode the métro in Paris to St. Ouen. As I rode, I met Sam living in Paris originally from the Ivory Coast, Inés—an 18 year old student on her way home from school, a mother from Bangladesh walking with her young son, and a gentleman with his luggage on his way to the airport to return to Bangui in Central Africa. 

Over the past now four months I have kept a visual diary of my daily encounters with people in New York and Paris during this moment of world war with Covid-19. I have been so touched by the eyes, stories, hearts, and moments of so many people—all part of our beautiful human family—that are sharing this moment of a world war that one way or the other touches us all. Through this diary, I've hoped to bring us all a bit closer to seeing each other with love. It is with love that we will win this moment—and save our collective selves. With love. 

Visual Diary Entry 42 — June 25, 2020

Diary Entry 42 — June 25, 2020

Some notes on morning light vignettes, Paris. 

This small album is not meant to be a final draft—I am simply happy to share some notes from my morning sketch pad. 

I wonder how many of us are really searching for our identity and trying to find a the direction of our compass that suits us—or that we can live with, in the middle of our world being turned upside down. I am calm, mostly at peace, and full of gratitude for so many things. But, I am not afraid or ashamed to say that what we are living through is new and part of what can feel good, interesting, and rich is to simply let our senses feel the moment, in all of its distinct imperfection. 
With love. 

Visual Diary Entry 41 — June 25, 2020

Diary Entry 41 — June 25, 2020

This morning as I sat down for my first café at St. Germain-des-Prés, I saw Monika, sitting by herself enjoying a morning café. When she stood up to leave and walked by, I introduced myself and asked if she would like to join me for another café. She joined me for this café and told me she is originally from Poland and now lives with her husband and new baby in England and is visiting Paris. She told me she loves photography and makes many photographs herself. 

We parted ways and I walked through Paris on a singularly beautiful morning lit with the sunlight of early summer. I went to bed last night so saddened by the news of the surge of coronavirus cases in parts of the US. I woke up this morning with these same feelings of sadness. It is a bit surreal to walk in Paris as the city emerges quietly from a few months of severe lockdown which seems to have been so helpful in flattening the curve of cases here in France. This moment is unique and different for all of us with the rhythm of our lives and work altered, transformed, and so much of our future still in question. My heart and love is with all of us during these times—hoping and wanting so much for our world to emerge from this moment of difficulty healthy and changed and alive. 

I continue to look life in the eye, and with all of its' realities, with sincerity, and continue to appreciate as often as possible, the grace of each new day, With love. 

Please share. 

Visual Diary Entry 40 — June 23, 2020

Diary Entry 40 — June 23, 2020

A photograph for history. 

Sometimes there really aren't many words necessary. Yesterday was a sensational day. I went with my friend Michel Setboun for lunch at a wonderful small bistrot in St. Ouen where the great American/Parisian photographer Louis Stettner used to eat every day, and then we visited a photography lab that is producing large size prints of our work that will be exhibited outdoors in a village in Normandy starting on July 10. Stettner is one of the great humanistic photographers of all time—an American that lived and photographed Paris until his recent death—and in my mind, under known—and sitting in this bistrot where he ate every day—I felt incredibly at home with a kindred spirit that I knew shared so many feelings I have known and felt as a photographer in Paris now for almost 50 years.

Upon returning home, in the early evening, I was a bit tired, but with the light of one of the most spectacular and long days of the year—I picked up my camera and went out for a walk. As I was walking towards the Ile St. Louis, I saw a young couple kissing right next to the Galerie Agathe Gaillard, where I have had several exhibits over the years. From a distance I made a few photographs, and then approached very close. Within only a few feet of this couple, I suddenly saw their reflection in the window of a gallery that has exhibited André Kertèz, Ralph Gibson, Charbonnier, and so many other photographers—a window that has been an opening to the expression of so many photographers and photographs. 

This young couple was unaware of my presence, and I made this photograph, and moments later approached them and introduced myself, and showed them this photograph on the back of my camera. I asked them if they wanted me to send it to them and gave them my card that I love that was printed at an incredible business card shop in Venice using ancien gravure techniques. 

They told me their names are Méline and Ferdinand. When I returned home there was a kind note from Méline telling me that she had looked at my site and thought my photographs were "trés belles" and was very moved by my photographs of Covid in New York. I sent them several photographs by email and woke up to a note thanking me and wishing me a beautiful continuation. 

I love this photograph of Méline and Ferdinand and I think it will have a long life. It is a photograph of love—of young and tender love—and speaks to the profound nature of life—the feelings of life that are strong, deep, complex, and drive us forward every day. There are moments in our life that we live for, and that we have lived, that give us reason to keep living for as long as possible. 

And, as we get older, we don't actually know more—we often simply would like to continue to know some of what we have known. I replied to Méline and Ferdinand and wished them my very best in all, always. This is what I wish us all. With love. 

Visual Diary Entry 39 — June 22, 2020

Diary Entry 39 — June 22, 2020

Thank you so much to everyone who wished me a happy birthday yesterday and contributed so much to making it a special happy day for me! I could not measure what your thoughts and the connections I have made with you mean to me. Photography, like life, is at its' best, about sharing. Your words, and greetings gave me such a strong sense of existing and being alive and that is what it is all about—loving, and being alive.

I wake up today for a new start to a new year of my life. What will this one bring? The last year of my life, brought me French nationality, a world war with coronavirus, and a world aware of a strong need for a human reset where we all strive, and hopefully contribute to real change in actions—humanly, socially, economically ,and politically, in moving towards a world where every child and person is judged only by the content of their character. 

This won't happen on its' own—it will happen at the ballot box, in the streets with raised voices, and with foundations of our systemic economic and social life rearranged in ways that favor human fairness, equality, and opportunity. Change for all will not always be welcome or easy. 

But—out of the shadows, with determined action, each day, will come light and love. Thank you to all. With love.

Visual Diary Entry 38 — June 22, 2020

Diary Entry 38 — June 22, 2020

Today is my birthday! 

A birthday café on a platter, Paris.

I am so grateful for the life I have had until now and I will feel gratitude for every day and year that remain ahead of me. 

Thank you for sharing along with me, on this journey. I have love in my heart and in my life, and while I have approached life always head on—witnessing what is best and worst and everything in between in human existence—I remain hopeful and enthralled by the marvels that life offers each day. 

I am very excited looking ahead to new books, exhibits, prints, workshops, photographs, and sharing love with the world each day going forward. 

I pray during this new year of my life that there will be a new president in the White House in November, and that like today, I will wake up that day with a smile and not tears. 

Thank you to all here, for your kindness, attention, and friendship. Happy Birthday as well to my wonderful brother David Turnley, and wonderful sister Ann Turnley, whose birthday is tomorrow. 
With love. 

Visual Diary Entry 37 — June 21, 2020

Diary Entry 37 — June 21, 2020

J'aime Paris! 

"J'aime Paris" (I love Paris).
This was the name of a famous and beautiful book of photographs by André Kertész and it says everything important for me about the city I have adopted as my home since 1978. 

On this 21st of June, the longest day of the year, Paris gave me as much reason as ever before to love it—coming out of more than 3 months of crisis with Covid, the world war we have all known—Paris today, as every year, celebrated a festival of music, and people came together from everywhere in the city, at different locations, to be together, to dance, to laugh, to love, and to seize a moment, even in the rain, to be happy and know joy—together. 

I will let these photographs speak for themselves. The world knows at this moment many challenges that are critical to the continuation of our existence. Every place in the world has its' challenges—some unique and some common to people everywhere—but I can say that there is so much wonderful and good about Paris, and France. Again, while there are challenges, this is a country where every citizen has access to good healthcare as a right and every child has access to good public education.

A country and city that not only loves, but cherishes culture, history, knowledge, and while capable of complaining and protesting often—a city, country and people that know what the joy of life means and demonstrate this with pride, honor, and humility as often as possible. 

Please join me tonight, and dance along, in Paris, with the music of this lovely day. J'aime Paris. With love.

Visual Diary Entry 36 — June 21, 2020

Diary Entry 36 — June 21, 2020

The light and love of L'Hotel de Ville, Paris.

I live in Paris very near the L'Hotel de Ville in Paris. Each day as I exit the subway, I take the rue Lobau exit and walk up the steps into the light. Yesterday afternoon, I spent a wonderful time walking around neighborhoods in the north of Paris near Chateau Rouge and Marcadet-Poissionniers. I sat down at a cafe and had a really lovely conversation with a father and his son, discussing the world, France, photography and life. I had probably three or four other conversation with people I met on the street—I mention this all to say that for me—these kind of interactions represent the true gift of a day—and are so much part of the love of life I feel when I am in Paris, New York, and Havana, all places that feel a large part of what home means like to me at this point in my life.

As I exited the subway at Hotel de Ville, as I walked up the steps, I noticed a beautiful young couple standing face to face talking—and there was an energy of love and grace in their interaction that caught my eye. I actually made a photograph of them speaking as I walked up the steps. I crossed the street, and looked back, and there, very near the same spot where Robert Doisneau made the famous photograph, "Le Baiser de l'Hotel de Ville", I saw them kissing, with the hands of the young woman so tenderly embracing the face of her lover. I walked back across the street and made photographs of this moment. As I approached and got near, they said goodbye to each others, and the woman, Laura, descended the steps to the subway, and Louis, walked by me and stopped to wait for a red light. I walked up and spoke to this young man and told him I had just made a beautiful photograph of them and showed him the back of my camera and said to him, "would you like me to send this to you, I don't like to take photographs, I like to make photographs, and I'd like you to have this". He smiled broadly and said, that would be wonderful and I handed him my card. Upon returning home, I received an email from Louis and I sent him immediately three photographs and he replied, "thank you for this moment that you have immortalized".

Within seconds of making the photograph above, as I crossed the street, I saw a young woman sitting on a street guard rail, looking down the long stretch of the rue de Rivoli, one of Paris’s main arteries, with the end of day light of one of second longest days of the year. Her profile, and demeanor spoke to me of dignity, pride, strength and grace. I approached her and asked her, Mitzy, if I could make a photograph of her. After several photographs in a moment of wonderful quiet and silence with her gaze reaching towards the light of this amazing day (the light of Paris near the summer solstice is indescribably spectacular), I spoke with Mitzy. She is 20 years old and lives in Tremblay en France, in the 93 district of Paris, in the northern suburbs of the city. Her parents come from the French West Indies and she was born in France. Mitzy works with children and told me she only rarely comes into the city. She was waiting for a friend and was happy to speak.

I asked her if she felt touched personally by this moment in time in our world and she told me in French, "I cried when I saw the video of the George Floyd murder. That happened in the United States, but what that crime of violence and racism represents touches us all, everywhere in the world. This is a moment of world consciousness. Anyone who has grown being reminded in an uncomfortable way of their difference is touched by this moment. It was essential that this moment was filmed. We will be all filming now. We must all love each other and appreciate each other for our differences." 

We spoke for quite awhile and Mitzy accompanied me for a Coke as she waited for her friend while I stopped at a café across the street for a lovely vegetarian risotto as it was dinner time.

Today is the longest day of 2020. This is a year like almost no other. Anyone reading this is lucky to be alive on this day. Many have lost their living breath during the days leading up to this one. Let's all honor them and make the best of this one with the most light of any day of the year—and how about we all do our best to honor and appreciate and love each other for our differences, and for our hearts. With love.

Visual Diary Entry 35 — June 20, 2020

Diary Entry 35 — June 20, 2020

Yesterday, late in the day, I got on the Paris métro and rode north, with my friend Carl, who is also some times my assistant in Paris, and we rode towards the métro stop Marcadet-Poissionniers in the north of Paris. 

After only a few stops on the way, I noticed the eyes of a gentleman standing in front of me. I stood up and walked over and stood next to him and said, "with the mask, I can only see your eyes, but you have beautiful eyes—do you mind if I make a photograph of you. He replied in French, "hey—thank you for noticing me—yes—make my photograph. I made a few photographs and spoke with this man, Abbass, born in the Congo and living now in Paris for many years. We spoke about how he had made it through the first months of the Covid crisis. I told him about what I had lived through in New York. At this point on the train ride there were fewer people and I said out loud, "you know, we all ride the trains, and people never speak to each other—I think we ought to speak to each other more often" and another passenger nearby said, "I agree with you completely—why don't you make a photograph of me!". I then made a few photograph of Halim. I sat down and in front of me, a gentleman, clearly quite tired from a long day at work was dozing in front of me. When he opened his eyes, I said, "looks like you've had a long day". His name is Jean and he replied that he had had many long days since the beginning of the covid crisis—with various work projects as he has not been able to return to his normal job working at the Roissy airport. He told me he lived in the 94 region of Paris and the whole ordeal of the covid crisis has been hard and terrifying for him and his friends and family. 

After descending at the Marcadet-Poissonniers métro stop, we walked down a street, not far from the neighborhood of Barbès-Rochechouart where I lived in 1978 for a year when I first landed back in Paris. As I walked, a group of women passed and one woman, Madira, of Ethopian-Ivorian parents, said "are you a photographer?" I said yes, and she replied, "please make a photograph of me". While photographing, Madira, who owns a dress shop, was joined by her neighbor, Mamadou, who owns a shop next door, and wanted to be photographed as well. We walked further and stopped at a local café where I offered Carl and several new acquaintances a beer. Everyone I spoke to was immensely curious about how the situation had been with covid in New York. This has been a constant subject of conversation since my return to Paris.

Before arriving at Carl's home where we had dinner, we walked by an overpass of train lines leading to Paris's Gare du Nord train station. A rapid train flew by in the late evening with the last rays of a day of light shining on the tracks. After dinner, I returned home and before going to sleep looked at the photographs I made that day. I kept remembering Abbass who said to me on the subway, "thanks for noticing me—please go ahead and make my photograph". Those words say a lot to me, and they speak for themselves. I will be 65 in two days, and I've been very fortunate to have the chance to notice a lot in this life. I will continue to be grateful for every day forward that remains, to be able to continue to notice, with love, and hope that others might notice the marvel and wonder of this world, that I see offered to us every day. With love. 

Visual Diary Entry 34 — June 17, 2020

Diary Entry 34 — June 17, 2020

The only way forward is to follow the light, together. 

With love. 

Visual Diary Entry 33 — June 17, 2020

Diary Entry 33 — June 17, 2020

If you could paint the world, how would you paint it? 

This morning, with my first café, I thought about this idea and my mind drifted upon a quiet moment last night along the Seine, with the light of one of the longest days of the year. If I could paint the world, I would paint it exactly as it is, with every tone of color across the spectrum, appreciating every nuance, every difference, every shade, every tone, and I would paint it with love,
in harmony, with not only acceptation but with a sense of glory for all that the tableau offers, of wonder and beauty. The world I would paint would be the world I know, diverse, grand, full of light, shadow, and I wouldn't need to invent anything in my tableau—I would simply exalt upon what is always, reality that I can see, and reality I would I always want to know about more and as long as possible. With love. 

Visual Diary Entry 32 — June 16, 2020

Diary Entry 32 — June 16, 2020

Cleopatre, Paris.

We have visual references that stay in our minds and follow us. This morning, when I woke up, I saw a photograph from the 1950's of a Vogue model sitting at a café and I was struck by the elegant simplicity and beauty of the light of the moment. Later today, as I sat at a café, I looked over to see this woman sitting with a friend. I introduced myself and a bit later, upon seeing this moment, I made this photograph. Afterwards with her friend, we spoke and she told me she has Egytian-Moroccan parents and was born in Morocco and has lived in France since being a young girl and now is French. She told me she had spent the first two months of the lockdown in Los Angeles with her boyfriend and had only recently returned to France. With her friend we spoke of many of the issues confronting our world today. Before I left, I asked her what her name is, and she replied, "Cleopatre." 

Visual Diary Entry 31 — June 16, 2020

Visual Diary Entry 30 — June 16, 2020

Diary Entry 30 — June 16, 2020

One day I walked onto the subway in Paris about ten days ago and standing in front of me was a masked nun, with her cross displayed prominently and a gaze that spoke to the confusion, fear, and weight of this moment. I come back to this image often in my mind. I wake up every day and make a coffee, and now in Paris, look out at the sky, read the headlines of the news, think about my day ahead, and think about the world. I look for signs of hope, and in the awakening of this moment both nationally and internationally of consciousness, anger, revolt, pain, and call to action to fight systemic racism and police violence and brutality, and what appears to be a strong swing of public opinion realizing just how completely useless Trump and his entourage are as destructive forces in our society and world—in the midst of this I do find some hope. 

But, I will continue to think that it is simply too easy to say to ourselves, let's say a prayer, let's hope this pain leads to change. Until there is economic change, fundamental change—when every child has access to excellent health care and education as a right—the status quo of privilege will continue and we will come back to the same manifestations of human inequality and all of its' ugly manifestations of hate, violence, ignorance, members of the same human family being pitted against one another, all to the ultimate advantage of maintaining the status quo for a class and a caste of people that benefit from our differences. Until we stop being dependent on the paternalistic decisions of the rich and unbridled capitalism to decide whether they will share their wealth as a form of generosity rather than a legal obligation, things will not really change. Western Europe and Canada have lived and fought for social democracy mixing free enterprise and strong social institutions for generations and while their societies have their own problems to deal with walking a thin line to keep balance between growth and strong social protection—this approach to life found all over W. Europe is something most everyone can be proud of. 

The rich American class has succeeded for generations in making the word "socialism" a bad word—but few Americans would give up Medicare and Social Security benefits which are entirely social democratic institutions. The disparities of wealth in America are simply absurd and inhuman. These changes won't come overnight as the depth of feeling regarding these subjects is profound. But—if we truly wish to move towards a more human and righteous society—we must vote at the ballot box to make change. We must do more than simply pray for change, though we can do that too. We must stand up and act. With love. 

Visual Diary Entry 29 — June 15, 2020

Diary Entry 29 — June 15, 2020

Gilbert—making the best of a bad situation. 

Last Saturday, I ran into Gilbert, certainly in his late 80's if not early 90's, on his way to Saturday market. Gilbert is a renown swing dancer who I have photographed many times dancing along the banks of the Seine. There he was with his ascot, hat, and stylish jacket. I asked Gilbert how he was doing and he told me he had caught the covid virus early on and had lived through it and with a smile he said to me, "now I am immunized!" As I was making a portrait of him a woman walked up, unknown to both of us, and intervened and said, "why don't you photograph him with his hat off." I looked at her with without saying anything with an air of "I beg your pardon," and before I could open my mouth Gilbert said, "Cool Peter, Cool Peter." Well, one thing I know is that no one will ever have to say, "Cool Gilbert." As he dances through life, his example of grace and dignity is a lesson for all. With love.

Visual Diary Entry 28 — June 14, 2020

Diary Entry 28 — June 14, 2020

Sunday mornings are often wonderful moments of contemplation. And, there is certainly much to contemplate at this moment. This morning I was having my café at Café de Flore and spoke to my neighbor, Chaimaa. We discussed many things, and at one point she asked me if there was a photograph that I wish I had made that was not mine. I immediately told her that yes, "The Migrant Mother" photograph by Dorothea Lange is one of the most powerful photographs for me in the history of photography. We discussed the notion of enigma and mystery, the notion of wanting to know more—the Mona Lisa dimension of life and storytelling. I have spent my life wanting to know more—about life, about people, about what makes us, and even me, tick. But, I have realized over time, how wonderful it is that we don't know all—and how not only is it not necessary to know all, about anything or anyone, but how much richer, and real it is to understand how beautiful it is what we don't know—and what we may never know. We are all many things at once—and for sure, we don't even know for sure all about ourselves. 
Later, towards the end of my café I looked over to see this moment of contemplation—this moment of silence—in the midst of the motion of a Sunday morning. It can be so wonderful and interesting to not know.

With love.

Visual Diary Entry 27 — June 13, 2020

Diary Entry 27 — June 13, 2020

An awaking of passion against racism and police violence—Paris.

Today many thousands gathered at La Place de la République to protest against racism and police violence and brutality not only in the United States, but world wide. Every country has its' own history and its' own realties regarding racism—but it is clear that at this moment, worldwide, and certainly including in Paris and France—a strong awakening of passion is being voiced for a more just and human world. I share the passion and energy of this moment with these photographs.

And I pray that this will be more than a moment of slogans, and that it will be a moment of profound change and as part of that change—I ask that not only do each of us look deep into our hearts regarding our attitudes of race, but that we also stand up and demand that every child be not only judged by the content of their character, but that every child be given access to excellent healthcare and good public education as a right, not a privilege. 

Until we fight for these rights, I fear that an on-going economic world that depends on the trickle down philanthropy of the rich upper class to improve the well-being of all, will simply result in maintaining the status quo of privilege for a few. I have been thinking today that rather than have the names of rich philanthropists on the walls of hospitals and universities because of their tax break philanthropy—it is time to name streets, squares, cities, hospitals wings, and universities, after health care workers, postal workers, delivery men and women, cashier register workers, and our civil rights heroes. They are the people truly keeping us alive. 

Our basic human rights should not be dependent upon the decision of generosity of the rich—these are basic rights for all. Much must change. It can start at the ballot box in November, and in the streets of the world today. 

Visual Diary Entry 26 — June 13, 2020

Diary Entry 26 — June 13, 2020

The world has gone through many rainy days of late—both figuratively and literally. Much work needs to be done, one day at a time to heal our collective selves. The effort needs of course to start with each of us with a deep look within ourselves, a look at our attitudes, thought process, actions, gestures, and a recognition of what systems mean to us, and to others—and their outcomes. But, in all of this, it seems to me, a powerful start each day would be to simply look around ourselves and notice the lives of others and not walk by their existence without paying attention and taking notice, and when possible, making gestures of humanity that include empathy and compassion. With such a start, while much work needs to be done, and particularly starting with the ballot box in November, we may all begin to come in a bit from the rain. 
With love.

Visual Diary Entry 25 — June 12, 2020

Diary Entry 25 — June 12, 2020

The life of a bench. As I walked by this corner of the Île St. Louis in Paris on this morning of rain, a lone bench caught my attention. Written on the top plank of the bench was the word "vivre" (to live). I stopped for a moment. This was the exact spot where one Sunday morning I had encountered André Kertèsz in 1980 walking alone with his camera—this part of Paris also one of his favorites. As I contemplated this bench this morning, I thought about all it could reveal if it could only talk—the number of conversations it has heard, the number of kisses it has witnessed, the number of laughs, and arguments, and truths and lies, beginnings and endings, and time—it has lived through all time—beautiful days, grey days, rainy days, mornings, nights and wakes up with the sun every morning. It is anchored and centered, and through good and bad, it endures. And, as the verb is written upon it—it lives. 
With love.

Visual Diary Entry 24 — June 11, 2020

Diary Entry 24 — June 11, 2020

I woke up this morning in the 4th arrondissement of Paris, and when I went out for my morning walk—as I walked towards the métro St. Paul, the life worn face of a gentleman sitting by himself smoking a cigarette caught my eye. I sat down next to him and within seconds told him that he had a very interesting face. He thanked me and told me his name is Roger and I introduced myself as well.

We began to speak and he told me he was homeless—he had been on the "rue" for eight months since a divorce and losing his home. He had been a truck driver for 40 years and hauled industrial products throughout France, Italy, and Germany. I asked him how he was making it in the streets and he explained that he found food most days at a soup kitchen and that it was really rough at first ,"I almost cried in the beginning". He told me that had several places all over Paris where he sleeps at night, and at his feet was a backpack with a sleeping bag. I asked him how he had lived through this period of coronavirus and he told me that Paris had been really sad for him with no people around—but that he had not known any homeless people including himself that had gotten the virus. He was born in Paris and had lived for many years in the Loire Valley. He had a grandfather on one side of his parents that was Russian and a grandmother that was German, and his parents were both born in France.

I told him that when I was 20 years old that I had spent nights riding trains with hobos in California and that I had realized at that early age how fragile life can be—that often the equilibrium of life can be as thin as a thread. He said to me, "we are always somewhere near either side of that thread". I asked him if he had any wisdom to share with me at this point of his 68 years of life and he thought for a minute and said, "If I could do it again—maybe I wouldn't have made some errors". "When I was younger—in my twenties—I should have enriched myself—there were some bank robbers of my early years that never hurt anyone, and spread the wealth around". "These days you can't do that any more—the world has changed and now there are drugs and people getting hurt and many bad things". It seemed in his view that in the old days—the idea of robbing a bank was not a less noble a way to become rich than how he viewed many people had acquired wealth.

I told him that I had spent some time working as the assistant to the French photographer Robert Doisneau and he replied, "wow—he was a "sacré mec! (amazing guy)—he made that famous photograph of the couple kissing.". As I drank two double espresso cafés over our conversation I offered Roger a beer. I told him it must be really rough to sleep in streets and he told me had several good spots—at Le Louvre, Hotel de Ville, and a few other spots—and he said to me, "you have to sleep with one eye open, and he pulled out of his bag a tube of disinfectant a pharmacist had given him to clear up insect bites. As we sat and spoke, and I made some photographs of Roger, I told him how incredibly lucky and fortunate it was that I had found with a camera a journey through life where I could meet so many people and be touched by so many stories. He looked at the back of my camera at one point to see one of the photographs I had made and he said to me, "you can really see the light".

I asked Roger if he minded if I share his story and photograph and he smiled and said, "of course".
I stood up to leave and went inside to pay a young Portugese couple that run this café. I asked them to offer another beer to Roger, and they both said to me, "he is a really nice man—always correct and gentle".

Life is amazing, and we all do walk at moments, if not often on this thread of equilibrium. My mother and father always spent their living energy thinking of and helping people that have too little rather than too much. There is a part of each one of us that is Roger—and that is because like him, we are all human. May we never forget that. And may we never forget the lucky cards we have drawn in life. When I got up to leave I said in French, "au revoir Roger", and he replied, "au revoir Peter". Roger didn't' forget my name—many people might have. Merci Roger. With love.

Visual Diary Entry 23 — June 10, 2020

Diary Entry 23 — June 10, 2020

Since March 21, the first day of lockdown in New York City, I have gone out every day and with my camera and notes, have kept a visual diary, now both in New York, and Paris. I have been photographing now for almost 50 years, but this is one of the first periods of time when I have kept careful notes of the stories people tell me regarding most often, the most direct and sincere impressions they are having of their lives at this moment. We are living in very difficult and troubled times—with a war against an invisible enemy, and a battle for justice for human rights for all of our human family—a battle that has existed throughout the history of all of our lives—and a battle that too many have ignored must start each day, and every day, within our own individual souls, gestures, words, and ultimately votes. 

Many times during the three months I was in New York, almost every day in fact, I documented and spoke about the reality that a large percentage of the essential and healthcare workers that literally have saved our lives, are people of color, African-American, Latino, Women, minorities, and sons and daughters of immigrants that were not born in the United States. After 9/11, it became not only common but highly fashionable for everyone to thank the troops for their service—without ever really having a discussion about who are the people that join the service to defend us—in extremely high percentage from working class backgrounds. Too often—the very people that lecture us about what is patriotism and how we must interact with the American flag—are people who have never served themselves or whose children never will as well. 

We must not let this moment pass and become simply one of slogans regarding justice and issues of race. Our world will change when not only every child is judged only by the content of their character, but when every child, every child, has access to healthcare as a right and not a privilege or a function of their ability to pay for it—and every child will have access to good public education. Until those realities change, the status quo of privilege which is in large part the basis of our unjust realities, will not change. Anyone who thinks change going forward will be easy is wrong. Anyone that thinks a few weeks of protest and attention to our systemic problems—and then a return to life as normal is wrong. 

We can have free enterprise, and economic growth and have social institutions that offer healthcare and education as a right, all at the same time. This will require the privileged to pay a higher percentage of taxes. But so what! Life for the privileged few will be in fact better for them—when it is also better for all. A few years ago—the NYTimes made an article that clearly indicated that the amount of money that the less than 1% of rich Americans hide illegally from the IRS is more than what the IRS collects each year from the whole country. 

The idea that social institutions for all will stop growth is a sham that is perpetuated for all time by the very people that benefit from this status quo. And the most incredible aspect of this is that they convince a significant number of working class voters to believe in these ideas. 

This is a long ramble—but over these past months I haves written sincerely—and that is what I offer this morning—whether you agree with me or not. 

I will vote in November. I will vote for change—and we need significant change!

Visual Diary Entry 22 — June 9, 2020

Diary Entry 22 — June 9, 2020

Today Paris at the Place de la République went silent for 8 minutes and 46 seconds in homage to George Floyd. 
Maurice, 40, born in Senegal, has lived in France for 20 years. He told me that he thinks this moment is a moment of awakening for the world regarding racism and police brutality everywhere and that is a moment that touches everyone. 

With this photo, I hope to contribute to making this moment of silence heard for eternity. 

Visual Diary Entry 21 — June 9, 2020

Diary Entry 21 — June 9, 2020

Les Deux Magots with masks—a sign of the times. 

I have been walking by or frequenting Les Deux Magots Café since 1975. This café at Saint-Germain-des-Prés in an institution of Parisian landscape—a place renown for its' past patronage of habitual clients such as Simone de Beauvoir and Jean-Paul Sartre, and writers and artists, such as Ernest Hemingway, Albert Camus, Pablo Picasso, James Joyce, Bertolt Brecht, James Baldwin, Chester Himes and Richard Wright and many Surrealists artists and Parisian intellectuals. 

When I was a student at "Sciences Po" in Paris from 1978 –1981, I would walk by Les Deux Magots Café every day on my way to the subway each day. I recall in my early days, seeing the many bourgeois Parisian clients having a drink at 4pm in the afternoon, thinking that in the States, and in the cultural landscape of my childhood— that it would be shameful to be seen having a drink and not be at work at that time of day. Then one day—I had an epiphany in my understanding of the bourgeois Parisian culture of that time—that on the contrary—being seen out, relaxing with a drink at that time of day was a sign of success—that they didn't need to be at work at that time of day like everyone else. Times have changed in many ways everywhere in the world, including in Paris and today Les Deux Magots has also become a bit of a tourist attraction. But it will always for me represent and be a symbol of a time and certain way of Parisian life, and this photograph—with two masked waiters, is as well, a symbol of the unusual and unique times we are all living through during this moment of war against a world wide invisible enemy of a virus. With love. 

Visual Diary Entry 20 — June 9, 2020

Visual Diary Entry 19 — June 6, 2020

Visual Diary Entry 18 — June 6, 2020

Visual Diary Entry 17 — June 6, 2020

Diary Entry 17 — June 6, 2020

Today, worldwide, people took to the streets in protest in solidarity with this moment after George Floyd's murder at the hands of the police, when as my friend Cedric, born in the French West Indies, now living in Paris, said to me, "Peter, worldwide, the silence has been lifted on racism, and police brutality towards people of color". In Paris, a large demonstration took place at La Place de la Concorde. With these photographs, I hope to help lift the silence further. The tears of this young woman are the tears of a person, a community, a nation, and the world. May we each wake up on this Sunday morning and dig deep into our hearts, and embrace and act on the idea that every child and person be judged only by the content of their character, and that each of us strive in our daily gestures and life energy to be as human and loving to all members of our human family, as we can be. May we offer access to healthcare and good public education to every child as a right and not a privilege. Change can begin this morning, upon our wake up. It must also happen in November.

Vote.

With love. 

Visual Diary Entry 16 — June 6, 2020

Visual Diary Entry 15 — June 4, 2020

Diary Entry 15 — June 4, 2020

Yesterday, as I stood at the Champs-Élysées, facing the Arc de Triomphe in Paris, a young man, Touré, originally from the Ivory Coast and now living in Paris and working as a delivery person pulled up on his bicycle. He stopped and asked me, "how is it going?" I told him well and asked him the same thing and asked him what he was delivering and he replied, "I deliver all kinds of stuff." I post this photograph in honor of Touré, an essential worker during this Covid crisis. Honoring the dignity and humanity of people, members of our human family, is not limited in geography and can and should be done everywhere, every day. Here is to Touré!

Visual Diary Entry 14 — June 3, 2020

Diary Entry 14 — June 3, 2020

La Brasserie de l'Isle St. Louis has been my home for the past 50 years. I first walked into this institution of a restaurant in the center of Paris in 1975 and while standing at the wonderful wooden bar at the age of 20, introduced myself to one of the barmen as Peter, and the barmen introduced himself. In 1978, upon my return to Paris to live for good—I walked back into this place that had left me with such a wonderful feeling and immediately encountered 3 years later the same barman and said in French, "hello Gerard,” and he responded in French without missing a beat, "welcome back Peter." I knew at that moment this would be my home away from home. 

Today, after three months of being closed—La Brasserie opened its doors again for service. Les patrons of La Brasserie, the Kappe family, are like family to me—and my connection to all of the waiters whom I know of course all by first name and have spent countless hours around—is one of long term true friendship. 

My heart sang to see the Brasserie back in action today. For the time being—all service will take place on the terrace and the tables have all been studiously kept at safe social distance from each other. All of the waiters wear visors, rather than masks, which gives these men with their traditional waiters garb somewhat of an aspect of being from outer space. But, with the good sense of understated humor that is so quintessentially French—they all took this change in clothing approach with the grace and elegance and good spirit that one could always expect from the Brasserie. For me, there could be no place that embodies so much of what is wonderful about France and Paris than La Brasserie de l'Isle St. Louis. This institution has been around since way before World War II, and I have always heard stories about the atmosphere there before and during the war. La Brasserie has survived this World War III, and I was so happy to be there today, for what was for my heart, and for the restaurant, on this reopening day—something that literally did feel a bit like the liberation of Paris. Viva La Brasserie. Viva La France. 
With love. 

Visual Diary Entry 13 — June 2, 2020

Diary Entry 13 — June 2, 2020

Paris woke up and made a big step forward today. This was the first day since the Covid-19 lockdown, ("confinement") in Paris, when cafe terraces opened all over the city and began to serve morning coffee and croissants. I walked from Le Marais where I live, past l'Ile St.Louis, along the Seine and by Notre Dame, and headed to Café de Flore at on Boulevard Saint-Germain, with some of the most beautiful morning light I've ever seen. 

Café de Flore is one of the most classic and famous cafés of Paris. There was a sense of strong excitement and loyalty among many of the clients who were clearly regular habitual customers, who had showed up to enjoy their first morning café served on an outdoor terrace by a masked waiter—who are famous for their classic dress and central to one's image of Paris. 

I returned later in the afternoon to Le Flore to see Paris having its' first outdoor café aperitif. 

There is not much "normal" in the world right now, whether it be in Paris coming out a Covid-crisis, or in the United States, which is turned upside down by the Covid pandemic and the realities of a history and present of systemic racism and murderous police brutality towards people of color, inequality in access to good education and healthcare largely based on social—economic class also too often related to issues of race and , tremendous disparity in wealth among its people, and with a national leader who lacks the most basic sense of human compass to lead. 

But, I finish this day, with a few images in my mind here in Paris, of a couple like Cyril and Chaïmaa, leaning over a café table to give each other a kiss and reminding me of how lovely life, can at times be. With love.

Visual Diary Entry 12 — June 2, 2020

Visual Diary Entry 12 — June 2, 2020

This morning, I woke up very early in Paris, 5am, and as I do most days, and more now than ever with all of the news from the States—opened my computer and was met upon wake up with an image of Trump holding a bible in front of a church in D.C., after having the Secret Service clear out and tear gas a group of peaceful protestors so he could create this absurd photo call. This from a man that has not known how to speak with empathy to the pain of a nation after one more murder by police of a black man in plain site of the whole world. 

Feeling far physically, but with my heart deeply connected to the significance of this moment for the country of my origin—I decided as I try to do each day, to go out and meet the day and offer my own form of remote protest in affirming what life has to offer when we embrace the whole world as our family and our brothers and sisters. As I walked along the Seine River at about 7am, I came across a young group of friends that has spent the night, in these early days of opening here in Paris. They had been out all night long and were from the northern suburb of Paris—St. Denis—one of the areas of France most hit by the Covid-19 crisis. 

After making some photographs of the group, Steven stood up and said, "please make a photograph of me". He raised his fist in the air, and looked towards the sun light of a new day, in front of possibly the most beautiful church in the world, the Notre Dame Cathedral, and shouted, "George Floyd—Black Lives Matter!". 

With this photograph, I join Steven, a young Frenchman whose parents are from the French West Indies, in protest. 

Later, as I drank a coffee at a cafe terrace that was open for the first time today since the Covid-19 lockdown in Paris, I overheard a Frenchman sitting next to me say to a friend, "Trump is abject!". This an uncommon, but strong and wonderfully precise word in English and in French and it describes the sentiment of a world of people that look upon this moment when a man that should be leader of the most powerful country in the world—is pushing a country and the world to the brink, with a lack of humanity, moral values, and heart. 

I will refuse to believe that even his followers and Republican allies can not see at this moment how dangerous this man is to the peaceful human potential of the diverse beauty of a country that not only most of the world realizes it would desire to admire, but also because of the intertwined human fabric of our world, needs to believe in. 

With this photo, I take a kneel, and I too shout my indignation knowing how beautiful the nation of my origin could be if every child was judged only by the content of their character, and given access to good public education and healthcare, as a right, and not a privilege. Thank you Steven. From Paris. 
With love. 

Visual Diary Entry 11 — May 31, 2020

Diary Entry 11 — May 31, 2020

It is never the last tango in Paris. 

Paris came alive today. After months of a complete lockdown, and recent days of a gradual opening, the city literally began to dance again today. Along the banks of the Seine, couples, some masked and some not, danced salsa and tango on a beautiful spring day for the ages. 

This was the first day since March 16 when I arrived back in New York from Cuba, where I saw some scenes that reminded me what life outside has looked like for generations in Paris. But, the reality is still far from that. What I did see were people enjoying the absolute beauty of this day, and this city, together, in peace, and quiet joy with a sense of gratitude to be able to possibly hope for a future better than what it has been for all during this world war that has been part of everybody's present. It appeared that this day in Paris was very good for everyone's heart-and it was good for mine as well. I will let my photographs tell the rest of the story. 
With love. 

Visual Diary Entry 10 — May 31, 2020

Diary Entry 10 — May 31, 2020

I arrived back in Paris less than a week ago, after witnessing and being inspired for more than two months in the streets New York City, by the courage, humanity, and decency of so many healthcare and essential workers—a large percentage of whom are people of color, African-American, Latinos, Women, minorities, people whose parents were born outside of the United States. In the midst of a true world war—the only true leadership during until now our toughest battle—came from working class people. 

Now only days later—from a far—I share the view of people from all over the world—seeing America on fire. All eyes worldwide are upon America right now and the deep wounds of a country with a status quo of extreme wealth for a relative few—great education guaranteed in large percentage for people born into privilege, healthcare as something accessible only for those that can afford it rather than being a right—and a president that supports white protestors with guns in front of Midwestern state capitols and calls protestors thugs who are upset over the killing of a person by a policeman because of the color of his skin—all of this is in plain view for the world to see. 

The question is—will America see it—and see beyond the flames of pain and anger and recognize a history and present of oppression and frustration for so many—or will the white ruling class of America continue to go on morning business and stock market shows and while their portfolios are growing—brag about the greatness of the American economy and everything American, and never look the truth for a whole population in the eye. 

I love the country of my origin—and I love it because of the beauty of its' diversity and because of the people I saw save our lives during this Covid crisis without asking for any gratitude—simply doing what for them is right. 

It is time we all step up, and open our eyes, as the world is doing upon the country right now—and take a good long look at what is fair, human, and right. The status quo is not working because it is not human. An honest look, could be our only savior. 
Vote.

Visual Diary Entry 9 — May 29, 2020

Diary Entry 9 — May 29, 2020

We are all one family worldwide. We are a family of men and women, brothers and sisters. Much more powerful than any distinction that can be drawn about people anywhere and everywhere is our common blood that flows from the heart of life. When one of us grieves the loss of a loved one from a worldwide enemy of a virus —whether it be from a pandemic of a virus, or the virus of racism, it is a loss for us all. When anyone of us suffers any form of oppression, we are all oppressed. 

We must stand together in love, and stand up for what is just and right. It is as simple as that. With love. 

Visual Diary Entry 8 — May 29, 2020

Diary Entry 8 — May 29, 2020

Death!

Covid-19 has killed worldwide, and in the northern suburb of Paris of St. Denis, death has come to many. My twin brother arrived back in Paris last week, and with his heart and compassion, went directly to the place in France where Covid-19 has hit hardest, St. Denis. Before arriving back in France myself last week, David’s photographs of a cemetery in St. Denis, “Le Carré Mulsulman” in the “Le Cimetière Intercommunal des Joncherolles” touched my heart profoundly and directly with the dimension of loss this war has represented in this country. David and I, while we have led separate careers worldwide—have often found ourselves in similar places of international geo-political importance over the past 40 years, and we have often worked together—as it can be both essential to work in places like war zones with someone you completely trust—and it is wonderful to be with a friend or colleague whose vision inspires—and David’s has always been an inspiration to me. I asked David to take me to this cemetery of St. Denis on this Friday, a day of Muslim prayer. He very kindly picked me up at 8am this morning, and with a wonderful contact, Moise, from St. Denis—we drove an hour to this cemetery that for the past 3 months—has buried so many of the dead of Covid-19 in France.

Statistics and large numbers are impressive and impactful—but to understand the pain and grieving of death, unnatural death, there is nothing comparable to seeing a wife and a daughter, Hayat, 55, and Tidia—daughter, holding each other in tears honoring with grief and love, a husband, and father, Arezki Ammi, who passed recently from Covid-19. As I look at his grave and see the dates, 1954–2020, I realize that Arezki was only one year older than me. I hope I will never take another breathing day for granted. 

Arezki’s sister, Zakia, 56, had come to the cemetery a bit earlier. As she sat by herself next to her brothers’ grave—she repeated many times in French, “this is unacceptable! We are all dead. A whole family. Our mother doesn’t even know yet he has died—we cannot tell her.” 

Abdelaziz, 64, stood praying in front of the grave of his mother, Rechid Embarka—1936–2020. He told me she had been swept away by death within 3 days of having symptoms of Covid-19. Many times, as he stood near her grave, he repeated to me, “in complete simplicity—in complete simplicity—that is how we all die—in death there are no rich or poor—we simply die”.

Mimoun, Kader, brothers, and Mimoun’s wife Nadia, came with an Imam, to say prayer on this Friday. As two brothers photographed them in front of the grave of their father and father-in-law, Ahmed Es—Saad-1936–2020, also dead of Covid-19, Mimoun asked if we were photojournalists. We explained that we hoped to share with others, the significance and pain and grieving they were experiencing with the death of Ahmed. Mimoun looked at us and without hesitation said, “please do—we are all in this together—everywhere”.

In the car going home—David and I were very quiet, and also very tired. I turned to Dave and said—that was very emotional. He nodded his head, and we didn’t need to say more.

I love him, I love my family, I love my friends, I love you, and I love the world.

And as I end this day, I feel so sad for those that feel the pain of those I saw today—and hope that I, and we, will make the most of the days for us, that remain.

God Bless. With love.

Visual Diary Entry 7 — May 28, 2020

Diary Entry 7 — May 28, 2020

I have now been going out every day with my camera since the beginning of the Covid-19 crisis—and the theme of this world war is omnipresent, in New York, and in Paris. But, as I walk the streets of Paris, I realize there is a small but significant difference for me—Covid is everywhere—with masks, and every person, like in New York, and probably almost anywhere in the world at this moment—has a story connected to this war—but the difference is I am now in a city where I have been walking the streets for 50 years—and along with the leitmotiv of this crisis—there are so many reference points related to Paris specifically—and to photography as well I have to draw on here. I don't particularly like titles like street photography or photojournalism or fine art photography—I find them often reductive and at the end of the day—when they are done well—they are all the same thing—all about touching the heart of the viewer with a visual expression that has touched our own heart. But, there is no doubt that photographing in the streets of Paris has been a way of life for me now for decades. 

This morning I rode the train to Aubervilliers, one of the northern, mostly immigrant suburbs of Paris which is among the areas of France that has been the hardest hit by this crisis. I met a young couple—Priyadarshika and Bharit, from Northern India and Nepal—both having immigrated to France only two years ago. They met here in France. I asked them how they had experienced these past three months and they told me that without any question they had been the 3 hardest months of their life times—both on health and economic fronts. At the Gare du Nord train station, Borgia, originally from Congo—Brazzaville sat listening to Reggae music while she waited for her train. She was on her way to see her boyfriend and this would be the first time in three months they will see each other. 

A couple, Fatou and Mamadou, from Mali, walked with a baby carriage in front of the Gare de l'Est train station. I asked them how they had made it through these past months and Fatou threw back the cover of the baby carriage to show me two twin boys, that had been born only one month ago. This period for them will always be remembered as being a moment of the greatest gift of their lifetimes with the birth of their sons. 

Outside of the Gare du Nord train station, a street performer, Florin, from Romania, stood without a mask with his whole body painted in gold. I asked him why he didn't wear a mask as he adjusted his gold makeup and he laughed and said—I wear a mask all day long— and I realized that his chosen profession was that of a mask. 

Paris is, and will always be Paris. With the spring sun and beautiful weather and people emerging from two months of confinement—there are always moments of juxtaposition in the streets that evoke humor, sensuality, mystery, beauty, diversity, history, and lots of wonderful humanity. But—with all of that being said—it is most definitely worth taking a look at this city now—because after 50 years of seeing it in all of its' dimensions—always with love in my heart for a city that has been my chosen home for decades—one way or the other—as it emerges from this crisis and war—I have never seen it quite like this. With love. 

Visual Diary Entry 6 — May 27, 2020

Diary Entry 6 — May 27, 2020

All over the world in this battle against an invisible enemy there are heroes—people that go about their life, committed to doing what they have been trained to do with a sense of honor and duty—saving our lives. As I stood outside the front door of the Pitié-Salpêtrière Hospital in Paris yesterday, I met Océane, 24, a young assistant radiologist, who left her job working in cancer therapy in Toulouse, France, to come work in one of France’s hospitals treating the most cases of Covid-19 in the country. Her family had been quite concerned about this move—but she felt it her calling to come and help. She related to me that as chest x-rays are one of the principal ways of diagnosing the effects of covid-19 on the lungs—there have been discoveries of patients coming in with other ailments and then discovering the presence of covid-19 in their lungs. 

As I walked by the Eiffel Tour, later in the day, I encountered Laetitia, 17, a student in business management, walking with a group of her friends. Her mother is a nurse in a nursing home—and during the past two months of lockdown in France—her mother kept a distance at home with her whole family every day, concerned for the safety of her family. 

Dannick and Cesar walked down a street in the Marais near where I live in Paris at the end of the day. Both wearing masks—I was struck by their chic and how they have adapted their daily masked look into a very distinct fashion statement—very French. 

Chloé and Rubens rode the subway towards the métro station Bir Hakeim, both engineering 
students. After I made a few photographs while they conversed on this famous route where one rolls next to the Eiffel Tour—I spoke to them when we got off the train. It didn’t make me feel any younger when I asked them if they had seen “Le Dernier Tango à Paris” where Marlon Brando meets Maria Schneider at the Bir Hakeim train station—with the bridge between her very bourgeois neighborhood of Passy and his proletariat neighborhood of Bir Hakeim across the Seine—set the stage for an important sociological undertone of the whole movie. They had never seen the film. 

My days in Paris start early with a café served by Octavia at La Belle Hortense. While most cafés and restaurants are closed—there are now a few cafés serving take out coffee in the morning. At La Belle Hortense—café is served in a normal cup and one can drink on the sidewalk across from a bakery with some of the best croissants in the city. Starting my day with this first café a block from my home in Le Marais, is as always—one of my favorite moments of my day. And—this small café has become a place where I encounter my brother also in Paris—and some of France’s most interesting contemporary photographers—like Michel Setboun. These daily rituals, traditions, may seem small—but they are fundamental and profound as an anchor to a semblance of the normal life one loves—in a moment when our world has been literally turned upside down by an enemy we will defeat, with what the Parisians and the French have so much—spirit. 
With love. 

Visual Diary Entry 5 — May 27, 2020

Diary Entry 5 — May 27, 2020

For the past few months, since the beginning of the covid-19 crisis, I have been keeping a visual diary. This has not been journalism—and while my standards for expression I believe are always within the ballpark of that domain—this has been very personal—sincere—as a diary should be. Today as I walked through Paris—at the end of the day—I walked across a spot I have stepped across literally thousands of times in my life time since 1975—Le Pont des Arts. When I walk—I am not looking for photographs—I simply try to be present, and feel the world around me and always have my camera as a sketch pad to take responsive notes to what I see and feel. On this day—at the moment of this photograph—there were no ambulances, masks, funerals, hospitals, stretchers. But—there was something very Paris, and something very now in the Paris of months of Coronavirus lockdown in the expression of this moment. 

After I made this photograph I stopped to speak to Alice, 20. She spent most of the past few months of lockdown at her parents home in Marseille and had only recently returned to Paris. She has a year left of a masters degree at the same elite French school of political science, "Sciences Po-rue St. Guillaume", where I graduated with a degree in international relations in 1981. This connection of course took my mind back now 40 years to a time, like her, when life seemed like the opportunity for endless and infinite construction and the challenge, often difficult challenge—was to make decisions, take actions, have good or bad fortune—in a process one always felt needed to go forward, but with each small setback—enormous questions could be posed. I asked Alice how she had lived through these past months and she told me that being confined to home was not so difficult—some times boring, but at the present, as she looked forward to life ahead of her—she was living a moment of existential crisis. As she told me this—my first thought was empathy as I know that while such moments are not usually mortally dangerous particularly for people with opportunity and great surroundings—such moments can also be extremely painful. I then thought to myself, and even mentioned that at the age of 20 an existential crisis is not such a bad thing. 

But as i walked away—I found myself questioning that thought. What do I know? Every person and every life and every moment are different and unique. The pain and stress of doubt, confusion that someone else feels can only be measured by how they feel—not how they should feel and who can ever judge that. And, most importantly—to minimize or under estimate how this particular moment could feel for someone at the age of 20—and the way that this world war has turned us all upside down—to not take the feelings of existential crisis for anyone—would implicate a lack of understanding of the depth and profound nature of this moment. I have gone on for a long time with this ramble—and it is more in a somewhat selfish way for me I suppose than anything else in order to try to give some direction to my own compass. Before parting ways—a young friend of Alice's arrived, another graduate of "Sciences Po". We all spoke a bit longer—and before parting—I suggested that the only thing that ultimately matters when it is all said and done is human connection, feeling, and love—the rest is part of a necessary game of life—but not the essential. Alice looked at me—with the quiet understanding that I have had from so many beautiful conversations in France over several decades—with an understated, but completely understood slight candle lit gaze of a smile and a nod of the head—and we parted ways. 

This story is not only about this moment—it is about so many people I have been close with, Edouard Boubat, Robert Doisneau, Willy Ronis, and others—who would know exactly what I was feeling—and would have told the story quite similarly to me. I feel so proud and grateful to be present and alive today, on one more day of survival—to try to honor them the best I can. God bless, with love. 

Visual Diary Entry 4 — May 26, 2020

Diary Entry 4 — May 26, 2020

I have never seen Paris like this. There are no tourists anywhere. Montmartre is like a village with mostly only local residents sitting together, reading a newspaper in the sun, or like Claude, the father of Lucia, teaching his daughter to read. Like in New York, I ask almost everyone I photograph how they have made it through this experience. Many people, not all, like Carole, sitting alone early in the morning looking out at the Seine, told me this has been a time with two aspects-the first of course the reality of the danger of the invisible enemy and the need to be careful, and the second-a chance to reflect, and now with the ability to go outside-the opportunity to experience possibly the world’s most beautiful city, quiet, peaceful, and soulful. Fewer people are wearing masks than in New York, but masks are required in all public transport an in stores. I have been walking the streets of Paris now for almost 50 years. Paris will always be Paris-but I have never seen it quite like this. I share these first impressions, with the profound love I feel for this city and its’ people, 

With love.

Visual Diary Entry 3 — May 26, 2020

Diary Entry 3 — May 26, 2020

Marie-Rouge has lived for 89 years and represents the first person I have met since the beginning of the coronavirus that has known two World Wars-World War II and this current World War we are all fighting against an invisible enemy. I met her today near the Chateau Rouge Métro station below Montmartre. We met as we were both crossing a street and as she walked with her cane, I told her I had recently had a knee replacement. As she walked, she continually held her scarf over her face. I asked her how she had been doing these past few months during the lockdown in Paris and she told me it had been very hard. I had the impression that she may not have spoken to anyone much for many weeks. I asked her where she had been during World War II and she told me she had lived in Chambery in the Savoie region of France in the Alps and that this period had been very difficult for her and her family with rationed food, and much hardship. I asked her if I could make a photograph of her and she said of course, and looked to the sky. I told her that she was only a few years younger than my mother that had passed this last year. I asked what she was doing out for her walk and she told me she was going to the pharmacy and hope that they would give her a mask. 

We parted ways at the pharmacy door. When I arrived in France in 1975 when I was 20 years old-it was the first time that any history before my birthdate made any sense. I learned French largely speaking in cafés after my French classes with people Marie-Rouge's age and heard many tales of World War II and what Paris was like during the occupation. 
I realize tonight that it won't be long, if I have the good fortune to live as long as Marie-Rouge, before people like me will be able to tell youngsters that will have not know what this current war has been like. Time is a phenomenal thing-and it is in some ways-along with health and love-in many ways all there is. How we use it, and what we make of this life, is in large part but not only, up to us. I hope and pray I will have the grace as I go forward of Marie-Rouge who will hopefully out live two World Wars-and go out confronting the world covering her face with her "Hermes" scarf adapting to life as it is, until it evolves for the better. With love.

Visual Diary Entry 2 — May 25, 2020

Diary Entry 2 — May 25, 2020

I believe that when history looks back at this moment of world crisis-that aside from the tragedy of so many sudden deaths and the terror and anxiety of what this moment means for our health both physically and economically-the visual representation we will be left with will be eyes and masks! 
Today, after arriving back in Paris, I went to one of my favorite spots in the city, l'Esplanade de Trocadero, where one has the best view of the Eiffel Tour that stands as a symbol for the whole world except maybe Parisians themselves of what is Paris. Even the famous statue Flore sculpted by Marcel Grimond, was wearing a mask today. I encountered two young women, Nourhene, Hanane, and one of their friends-who had decided to come to be in front of the Eiffel Tour on their first day out of the house since quarantine. They told me that these past two months had changed their lives and they realized more than every how important their friendship was. On the way home on the subway, I noticed a young masked couple, Emma and Elie, holding each other affectionately-one of the most ubiquitous Paris scenes one can imagine-but again-this time wearing their masks. They were both away from Paris for most of the lockdown with their respective families until only a week or so ago. I asked them if this period had made their relationship seem more important and they told me yes, but that many of their friends had broken up relationships, realizing while being in close proximity to their mates these past two months-that they really weren't made for each other after all. Also, on the subway, Gisèle and Eva, two cousins rode home-this being the first time they had gotten together since the lockdown. 

I slept little on the plane last night and will get some rest early this evening. It is very nice to be back in Paris-on a beautiful day. More will be revealed in the coming days and I look forward to sharing my impressions and thank you for following along on this journey. With love from Paris.

Visual Diary Entry 1 — May 25, 2020

Diary Entry 1 — May 25, 2020

Coronavirus chic-Paris.

I landed back in Paris this morning after a night flight on Air France from Atlanta. While I waited for my bags, I saw, Laura, standing waiting for her's as well. When we travel we often notice what jumps out as quick stereotypes-and here, on this early arrival on a night flight I saw this young French woman who has been in lockdown with her fiancé in Chicago these past months-standing with a certain chic, that under the circumstances, could almost only be French. 

When I checked in at Laguardia for the flight to Atlanta-there were literally no other passengers around me. I have two passports-one American and one French, and the Delta check in system for the flight to France would not accept my US passport and my French passport did the trick. 

During the flight, in the middle of the night, a stewardess came to my seat and told me one of the pilots had heard about my photographs of New York and wanted me to show them to him on my computer. I appreciated very much the interest this French pilot had witnessing the commonality of this world crisis-and the bond we all have across the world in identifying with this moment. 

I have always loved Air France-and have been flying with them now for 50 years. The airline embodies not only a certain French style, but love of travel and adventure, and worldliness that like so much that is French-is a bit hard to describe and put your finger on-but you know it when you see it. 

I will rest for a few hours and will hit the streets of Paris with my camera this afternoon. 

With love.