An aging facade...

Today I'm sitting at my desk, I'm a bit annoyed because I can't find important image files anymore and I think "Girl, you used to be more structured...".

There I see this picture of a building on a busy street not far from downtown Paris, taken early in the morning in August last year. The facade is obscured by all the traffic that constantly streams past here.

It kind of reminds me of myself.

I am 50 years old. young or old? Well, that's in the eye of the beholder and my mood on the day. And yet... I've also seen a lot and been through a lot. Have a lot inside me - memories, feelings, people I care about, thoughts, and sometimes clutter. And life pulls through me and leaves its mark.

This house and I have things in common. Everyone walked past it and didn't even realize it was there. I noticed. I found it special. I remembered it. I like to look at it. Because it bears traces, because it contains things that I can only imagine but not know. Because it's beautiful in its own way. Because it only reveals what the facade shows.

Like me if you don't know me.

Whoever loves me sees me with different eyes. The traces of time on the facade don't bother him. He wants to know what's behind it and he loves what he finds. Even if this facade is not picturesque in the countryside and is neatly prepared with many lovely flowers around it. Doesn't offer, doesn't invite. Doesn't reveal its insides with a large glass and you might have to open many a door before you really get inside. And then I can see the world through my eyes.

And yet... I invite you. The first door is always open.