In college my father spent a year living and learning in Paris. He was one of the original hipsters, but back then he just looked homeless. He roamed the streets of Paris with his old school camera snapping shots of street performers, nature, monuments, and an assortment of interesting people. (He also made hundreds of illegal Collect calls to my mother, which almost landed him in a Parisian jail, but that's a story for another time...)
When he passed away a few years ago I inherited boxes of photographs and family videos, and came across photos from his Parisian adventure. They are incredible. Wonky street performers laden with banjos, harmonicas, tamborines; little old women feeding pigeons on park benches, lovers kissing on the bus. Self portraits in cafe windows. I love the story they tell.
During my time with Makenzie a few weeks ago, I tried to channel that Parisian vibe. These photographs make me so happy - not because Makenzie looks stellar (she does, she's a dream) - but because they really, truly remind me of my father's pictures. Even though he isn't here to cheer me on, I feel connected to him. Both twenty somethings, both in new places, both running around with our cameras - it just makes me smile.