Hello,
It's Gina here.
This evening we'll enjoy a trip to Paris,
So allow yourself to get comfortable,
Making sure everything is sorted for the night so you can relax.
Before we get started we'll do a simple wind-down exercise.
We'll be taking breath in for a count of four,
Holding for a few seconds and then letting the breath out for a count of eight.
So breathing in,
One,
Two,
Three,
Four,
Holding and becoming aware of your body pressing down on the bed.
Then let the air slowly out through pursed lips,
Three,
Four,
Five,
Six,
Seven,
Eight.
Again,
Taking a deep breath in through your nose,
Two,
Three,
Four,
Pause at the top,
Feeling your body press into the bed and then breathing slowly all the way back out,
Three,
Four,
Five,
Six,
Seven,
Eight.
And then allow your breath to return to normal and as your breathing settles,
Imagine that you are arriving in Paris.
It's afternoon as your plane touches down,
You feel the wheels gently touch the ground and as you come to a stop you smile,
You've finally made it.
You have the afternoon to explore Paris,
Nothing scheduled,
Just seeing where the day takes you.
You take your time leaving the plane,
Moving calmly through the terminal,
Hearing conversations in French.
You feel lighter somehow with a quiet sense of possibility.
You collect your bag and step outside where the sounds of traffic blend with the distant voices.
A taxi waits nearby,
The driver greets you with a smile and you settle into the backseat,
Feeling the cool fabric beneath your hands.
The door closes with a soft solid click and the car begins to move.
As the taxi pulls away from the airport,
You let your body sink back,
Your shoulders soften,
Your jaw unclenches,
You don't have to navigate or decide anything,
You're simply being carried forward.
The city gradually unfolds outside the window.
Wide roads lined with trees give way to narrower streets.
You notice balconies,
Tall windows,
Warm stone buildings catching the afternoon light.
The rhythm of the drive is steady and soothing.
At one point,
A taxi crosses a bridge and you catch a sight of the scene below.
The water moves quietly,
Reflecting the sky,
Buildings and the slow movement of boats.
You take a deeper breath,
Something inside you settles.
Soon,
The taxi slows and comes to a stop.
You step out onto the pavement,
The city now fully around you.
Your weekend has begun.
You begin to walk,
Letting instinct guide you rather than a plan.
The streets gradually slope upwards as you enter Montmartre.
Here,
The air feels slightly cooler,
Footsteps echo softly against stone.
There's a sense of history in the walls,
In the worn edges of stairways and doorframes.
You arrive at Place du Tertre.
Artists sit beside their easels,
Absorbed in their work.
You hear the gentle scratch of pencil on paper,
Low voices speaking quietly,
The occasional laugh.
One of the artists looks up and smiles,
Inviting you to sit.
You take a seat,
Feeling the chair solid beneath you.
As the portrait begins,
You rest your hands loosely on your lap.
You don't need to pose or perform,
You simply sit,
Present and relaxed.
When the artist turns the sketch towards you,
And to your delight,
The artist had captured exactly your feeling of serenity in this moment.
You thank the artist and continue on,
Carrying this quiet sense of being seen.
You wander downhill at an unhurried pace,
Letting yourself pause whenever something catches your attention.
A cafe window,
A narrow side street,
Light and shadow shifting across stone.
Eventually you find yourself near the Notre-Dame Cathedral.
Its presence feels steady and grounding,
As though it has been holding this space for centuries.
You don't need to go inside,
Simply standing nearby feels enough.
Later you find yourself strolling through a beautiful garden with leaves rustling softly overhead and the murmur of water bubbling in the fountain.
You sit for a while,
Letting the afternoon slowly dissolve into evening.
As the light softens,
You make your way back to the river.
You choose a small,
Quiet restaurant near the Seine.
Inside,
Candlelight flickers gently against the walls.
You enjoy a simple,
Nourishing meal.
It seems somehow delightfully home-cooked and yet was so exquisite.
The warmth of the food and the quiet hum of the conversation around you.
When you step back outside,
The city feels transformed.
Lights glow softly,
The air is cooler now,
Calmer.
You walk towards the Louvre Museum.
At night,
The space feels expansive and serene.
The glass pyramid glows gently.
Inside,
Footsteps are hushed and voices are low.
You move through wide halls,
Getting an impression of each of the art pieces as you pass by.
You don't analyze or linger,
You simply notice the moon,
The scale,
The quiet.
Time seems to pass by effortlessly and eventually you step back outside,
The night air cool against your skin.
You walk along the river once more.
In the distance,
The Eiffel Tower rises into the darkening sky.
For a moment,
Its lights shimmer,
Then settle again.
You pause,
Breathing it in,
Then you turn and continue on.
At last,
You arrive at your hotel.
It's quiet and softly lit.
The hallway muffles your footsteps.
Inside your room,
You change into comfortable clothes.
You go to the balcony and open the door a little to let some of the fresh night air in.
From the alleyway below,
You can hear muted conversations and some beautiful music,
A night busker,
Playing some soothing tunes for those passers-by still out enjoying this late evening.
You head to bed and lie down.
Your breathing slows now.
The city outside fades into the distance and your body feels heavy,
Warm and safe.
You allow sleep to arrive in its own time as the calm of Paris carries you gently into rest.
Good night my friend.
