Longing for her is more searing than fire, union with her sweeter than the deepest sleep. And her absence pierces the body like a rusty sword.”

THE ISLAND THAT GAVE BIRTH TO PARIS
When I first came to Paris, I lived in a street left from the period known as Lutèce, when Paris was not yet known by the name of a Trojan youth but was only an island in the middle of the Seine—the island of the Cité where the heart of the city beats today. In a sense the history of Paris is synonymous with the history of the Cité, the city’s womb. To understand a process that extends from the Roman period to the Middle Ages and finally to the French revolution it is enough to look at the white statue, rising into the sky like a minaret, raised to the memory of Geneviève, who protected the city from the onslaught of the Huns, to look at the stone walls of Notre-Dame and the frightful gargoyles that grace its eaves, at the round towers and dark dungeons of the Conciergerie.