When the first drops of rain fall from the sky, the streets of Montmartre begin to empty. Parisians duck into the warm, inviting lights of cafés. Couples find shelter in the cozy embrace of a shared umbrella. Those caught without umbrellas make do with that morning's wrinkled newspaper, headlines transforming into meaningless blots of ink, as they rush to the nearest metro station. A pair of giggling, rosy-cheeked girls in pigtails clutch each other's hands, splashing in puddles with gleeful abandon. In front of the Sacré-Coeur, tourists in colorful rain jackets dot the stairs, staring in awe at the city and its endless silver rooftops beneath them.
As for me, I greet the pitter patter of raindrops dancing down my umbrella like an old friend. Because during these fleeting moments, Paris feels like my own little world... Just me and my umbrella, and beautiful secrets waiting to be found on every corner.