Round and round.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
PRESENT DAY
PARIS
Cady
“I... No,” Cady stammered, starting to pack up her cameras. “I photograph carousels; I don’t ride them.”
“Why not?” Jean-Paul asked as he came over to help.
“Thanks,” Cady said, putting her hand out to stop him. “But I have a very particular way of doing it.”
He nodded and backed off, his gaze still on her. She busied herself with her packing—each camera had its own case, its own place within the larger bag—and to her relief he let the subject go.
Afterward, they headed back across the city. The Jardin du Ranelagh’s carousel was another simple design, this time with diminutive horses on a green structure that enthralled small children.
Cady once again went through her rituals: unpacking her cameras, framing her shots, and finally snapping a series of photos with one apparatus after another.
“It’s a lot of work,” Jean-Paul said when, at long last, Cady packed up her equipment again.
“It is. But I like it. It keeps me grounded.”
“Do you see things differently through the lens?”
“I do,” she said, wondering if he was implying that she kept herself distant from the world by standing apart, breaking it down into scenes and angles, and recording life for the future. It was a common theme among those who didn’t understand the art of photography, who had never been swept away by the shifting images of the world as seen through different frames and lenses.
Normally she would have let the subject drop, but his eyes were still on her, and for some reason she felt compelled to explain.
“It’s hard to describe, but when I look through the lens, it’s like I can be a different person. I can enter a world that is calm, and knowable, and sort of... magical, but safe at the same time. Even though I’m seeing the same thing others do with the naked eye, it makes more sense, somehow. There’s no noise, no unnamed desires, no strife. It’s just... beautiful.”
“Such beauty came across in the photographs you showed me of your rabbit.”
“Oh, I wish!” She scoffed. “My goal, always, is to convey those feelings by way of my photographs, but I rarely succeed. Why are you looking at me like that?”
He smiled. “I enjoy hearing you talk about your work. There’s passion in your words; your eyes flash.”
Cady could feel herself blushing, and was glad for the distraction when a bell rang loudly and children started to laugh and run.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“The marionette show will start in a few minutes.”
“Amarionetteshow?”
“You are surprised?”
“I am. Paris is so cosmopolitan on the one hand, but so old-fashioned on the other.”
“Perhaps that is why everyone falls in love when they are here,” said Jean-Paul.
Cady slung her heavy bag over her shoulder, declining Jean-Paul’s offer to carry it for her.
“Thismarionettisteis very good,” he said. “If you have never seen the show, we really must go to it. But this time I insist upon paying.”
“But—”
