Paris to the Moon

I came to Paris almost three years ago now with my metamorphosis already mapped out: my triptych-plan was to become happy, to become a writer and to become rich. That is where my pragmaticism ended. Being one of Henry James' Americans, I believed that Paris was the celestial city; this is where those changes happen. And after several seasons spent here, I still believe that. A belief that has been challenged, though, has been on the nature of metamorphosis - is it the sudden shock of epiphany that leaves you blinded, newly-formed and crawling along a different road? Or is it Stendhal's idea of crystallization which necessitates a complex mixing of winters and salt-mines and negative experiences to create diamonds? Stendhal observes a leafless tree branch left in a salt-mine during the winter emerging as crystal-covered wand. He was trying to understand how love can alter the layers of vision - depending if one wanted to see rotten wood or shining light. I feel as if I have been wandering blindly in my own Parisian salt-mine, unsure of what it was I had wanted to find. So, doing what it is I always do in these situations, I went to Shakespeare & Co. to buy a book. On Marie-Hélène's recommendation, I bought Paris to the Moon by Adam Gopnik. I am hoping that by reading about Gopnik's Paris, I will learn how to talk about mine.