“The Notre Dame is on fireplace.” My spouse seems to be up from her cellphone. We’re on the highest flooring of Galleria Lafayette, a chic Parisian division retailer, looking picket toys for our 18-month outdated son. I shrug it off with the form of phone-news skepticism native to somebody whose profession is cellphone information .

“In all probability some building factor. It is like a stone fortress,” I grouse, and return to purchasing. Notre Dame on fireplace? Appears unimaginable.

However it is not.

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That was the primary pic I snapped. From six tales up within the Galeries Lafayette,  I might simply make out flames licking the tip of the 300-ft flèche. The smoke is extra apparent, as are the crowds, clustered at home windows and corners and sightlines on the road. They thicken as we stroll to the 4th arrondissement, the cathedral’s neighborhood for 800-plus years . They are saying time is the hearth during which we burn. We all know it’s historical past. Now we have to see it.

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My spouse took that pic at some point earlier. Notre Dame is magnetic, an outdated stalwart in a metropolis that’s itself historical. Begun in 1163, Notre Dame took greater than a century to complete.  To us, its attractive sculptures are ornament, blandishments in honor of Catholic glory. However to the French peasants, they have been the Bible itself. Generally known as liber pauperum , a “poor individuals’s e-book,” they remind us that Notre Dame’s goal is to attach with individuals.

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Now crowds of individuals, a mixture of vacationers and Parisians, clog bridges that span the Seine and crane their necks (and, sure, selfie sticks) for one of the best vantage level at consumptive historical past. My spouse and I push on, decided to get as shut as we will. We stroll the pathways alongside the riverbank beneath the bridges to keep away from larger crowds.

It was a literal evening and day distinction when in comparison with our stroll the evening earlier than, once we traipsed alongside the Seine, a little bit tipsy after dinner, and marveled on the constructing’s serene majesty . You possibly can’t see something prefer it in America, together with our native New York Metropolis. There isn’t a bustle to Paris after midnight, you hear your steps echo on the worn stones and are dazzled by the delicate, yellow lights. You cease usually to gaze on the Statue of Some Nice Man on a Horse, extra necessary than any of us will ever be. Paris can not assist however humble you. So when part of Paris falls, the world takes discover.

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That was the financial institution of the Seine that day. Individuals lean over the ramparts above. We’re nearer now. Downriver you see the hearth boats, and swarms of firefighters working with goal to avoid wasting a very powerful constructing of their careers. We head as much as the road, smack dab in the midst of a dense crowd, and push our option to the barrier. Then we cease. That is as near the historical past as we are going to get.

We will scent it. One factor all of the gorgeous video and social media shares can’t convey to you is the candy, mournful scent of a church on fireplace. The musk of incense, a way reminiscence pushed deep within the thoughts of any Catholic, religious or fallen, permeates the air. We burn it at mass to represent our prayers rising to heaven. Our prayers, it appears, wish to linger within the beams of Notre Dame. Who can blame them? Hardly a greater view in all of Christendom. And now they launch as soon as extra, a last and becoming tribute. Hundreds of thousands of prayers, provided up throughout a whole lot of years, go away Notre Dame and take one final journey alongside the Seine earlier than alighting to God-knows-The place.

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Then we bought kebab.

Historical past makes you hungry. We wind our method into the 4th and discover a gyro store with free Wi-fi. Historical past isn’t private anymore, you by no means maintain it to your self, so we begin sharing our photographs and ideas with buddies all over the world. We lastly see the well-known footage, the spire collapsing, and skim studies that possibly the marvelous home windows could possibly be saved (they have been). When our waiter drops off our meals, I ask him how he felt. The unimaginable is going on. Notre Dame is burning down.

“Eh,” he mentioned, non-plussed. “It’s not gonna wreck Paris.”


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