It's early morning at the Fountain of Saint Michel. Its quiet.
Parisians are starting to show up to work, shopkeepers are opening their stores, restaurants are preparing for the lunch crowd
and Bill Posters are getting an early start.
Heading east into the restaurant quarter we pass a small tour group. The guide has a heavy French accent and is explaining the origins of the street and houses.
A few meters on and we come across Eglise Saint Julien Le Pauvre, a catholic church built in the 1100s that sits quietly under the gaze of the Saints that watch over Notre Dame and grandeur of flying buttresses that keep the Cathedral from lifting up and breaking away from its foundation.
A gypsy sits outside the gate eying us as we enter, hoping for a few sous.
We enter the church. There is a wonderful sense of calm. A lady sits to the right in quiet contemplation dressed as if ready to go to work but needing some spiritual nourishment just to get there.
While across the street the crowds start assembling in front of Notre Dame Cathedral ready to tread the stones that see millions of people each year. There is no tranquility here. No calm. They have their guides. God has no choice. He left home and now lives across the street in this little church helping those in need and those who ask, one by one.
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