In Paris, horizons and perspectives were all defined by man. Infinity stops right at the other end of the street. Looking up uncovers a narrow stripe of grey. Looking down as well. For Parisians, looking inside is therefore the only possibility to fathom infinity.

One of the greatest pleasures la province treats the Parisian to is an immediate sense of the grandiosity of Nature. Repressed in his city high, he lives most days with comfort and ease in nothing but concrete. Leaving the city opens new doors. It offers a new form of enchantment. The enchantment of awe. Very few things leave the Parisian belittled, somewhere between admiration and fear.

Stars do.

There are not many things Parisians like as much as discovering a night sky sprinkled with stars. Coming out of a house after a nice dinner, coming out of a car after a long drive, the Parisian is caught off-guard by the disdainful beauty of the night. He finds himself charmed and thrilled by this view that exceeds him. Finally something does.

Stars don’t like competition. They prefer not to show in the city of lights. Seeing them is therefore a rare instance for Parisians. The emotion the Parisian feels under the stars is similar to the one he feels faced with a raging ocean of a quiet mountain range. An emotion away from home, a break from the petty. An invitation to somewhere intimate.

Stars comfort the Parisian in the idea that there is more to life than the mediocrity and ugliness he finds himself surrounded with. He feels close to that superior unknown.

So he shall smile.

Useful tip: Know that “milky way” to a French person shall forever be the name of a chocolate bar
Sound like a Parisian: “Oh… t’as vu les étoiles?!”