While awaiting the arrival of the replacement for my broken camera lens (which came yesterday along with my friend Sonal--huzzah!), I played around with a fancy 100mm lens that's been hiding in the apartment cabinet. It's new to me, and I've been slightly hesitant to break the sucker out. That's because it's substantial, this guy...the kind that sticks way out and hangs heavy around my neck, advertising to one and all that YES I AM PROBABLY A TOURIST PLEASE PICKPOCKET ME I'M TOO BUSY WITH MY HUMONGOUS CAMERA SITUATION TO NOTICE A FEW MISSING EURO OH MY GOD THIS THING IS MASSIVE RIGHT NO SERIOUSLY I TOTALLY KNOW.
Unlike my broken wider-angle lens, the 100mm, as I've now learned, lets me get alllll up in Paris' business. Like stalker-type levels of up. I walked around with the camera stuck on my face and pointing at the sky--up to the the rooftops, up into private conversations being had on balconies (not so private, sorry!), up into the realm of the blazing-gold statues holding court with masked, disembodied faces on top of the Palais Garnier opera house.
It's a powerful feeling, capturing sky-high parts of Paris I don't see when I play it safe behind my other lighter, more familiar lens. But I don't seem to be much about playing it safe lately. And for someone who makes, you know, giant lists of rules before she moves to a different country, that's pretty powerful, too.
The Paris Plan - Achieved Today: Rules #1, 2, 4, 7, 13. And maybe #15?