The light tread of cat paws on my knees

Two days ago I visited the Palace of Versailles, the magnificent château where Marie Antoinette once lived. Apparently someone lost his or her bag inside the palace grounds, and so everyone was forced to evacuate for fear of a potential bomb threat. I took this opportunity to explore the palace gardens instead.



The trees were naked and the grass was replaced with snow. The water in the 50 fountains were frozen, yet the sculptures protruding from them were strangely alive.



 Near Apollo's Fountain, I met a swan. We became friends, but I really think he just liked me because I was spoon feeding him Mikado chocolate sticks. 

The maze within the garden was beautifully quiet. Walking within the imprints of another person's footsteps, I came across a vast opening with three boys constructing a snowman. One wrapped his blue scarf around the snowman's neck, and proudly patted the white head.

After an hour walk, imagining what Marie Antoinette must have been thinking as she strolled along the same path I did, it was finally okay to enter the palace.

The chapel, the Hall of Mirrors, the King and Queen's bedrooms, the library, and multiple rooms just for provoking awe to visiting guests did exactly that - everything was covered in lavish paintings and patterns. From Delacroix to Bernini, artwork covered the ceilings and walls, to the very carpet we stepped on. Royalty were depicted as mythological gods. Illustrations of the changing seasons and representations of classical instruments adorned the corners of every room. Everything was, to put it simply, magnificent.





Oh Marie, what a life you lived.

30.

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