We leapt, without looking.
And tumbled into the Seine.

C’est la Seine.
The Seine is femenine. The name comes from the river’s Gallo-Roman goddess, Sequana. Over time, some of the sounds were twisted to give us “Seine” as we all know it.

Les arts.
It’s quite easy to spot the river in many different pieces of art of all kind. “Midnight in Paris”, “The Bourne Identity” or “The Lovers of the Bridge” are just a few of hundreds of films which feature the Seine. Authors such as Guy de Maupassant and Victor Hugo have written some pages about the main artery of Paris. And let’s not just forget about Monet, Seurat and mostly all of the fellow impresionists who have depicted it in their works.

Browse the bouquinistes’ boxes.
If you mind the recommendation, there are several green boxes perched on the railings of both quais filled with vintage treasures such as second hand books, magazines and posters from decades ago. Therefore, it is a good place to get lost while listening to the sound of guitarists’ melodies all around. Can’t get any more Parisian that this…

“Good talkers are only found in Paris.” —François Villon

At the end of the cathedral you can see the scaffolding after the fire that Notre Dame suffered in April 2019.

Behind the arch of glory sets the day;

The river lies in curves of silver light,

The Fields Elysian glitter in a spray

Of golden dust; the gilded dome is bright,

The towers of Notre Dame cut clean and gray

The evening sky, and pale from left to right

A hundred bridges leap from either quay.

Pillared with pride, the city of delight

Sits like an empress by her silver Seine,

Heavy with jewels, all her splendid dower

Flashing upon her, won from shore and main

By shock of combat, sacked from town and tower.

Wherever men have builded hall or fane

Red war hath gleaned for her and men have slain

To deck her loveliness. I feel again

That joy which brings her art to faultless flower,

That passion of her kings, who, reign on reign,

Arrayed her star by star with pride and power.

—Willa Cather

“Paris” was published in April Twilights (The Gorham Press, 1903).

She is resting on one of the stone banks of the Seine.

The Seine flows out of the mist

And into the mist again;

The trees lean over the water,

The small leaves fall like the rain.

The leaves fall patiently,

Nothing remembers or grieves;

The river takes to the sea

The yellow drift of the leaves.

Milky and cold is the air,

The leaves float with the stream,

The river comes out of the sleep

And goes away in a dream.

—Sara Teasdale

Autumn (Pont de Neuilly)

In the Seine book stands, you can find some vintage treasures.

“Paris is the world. The rest of Earth is nothing but its suburbs.” —Marivaux, 1734

She is crossing Le Pont de Sully, with picturesque views to Notre Dame and the Seine.

featuring & words Noelia Blas
photography & content editor Penélope Blas

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