“I first saw the Bourse de Commerce, really saw it, in April of this year, but by that point I had been living in Paris for more than six years. I’d visited the Louvre of course, a minute or so stroll towards the river, and the Musée des Arts Decoratifs just down the street. I had seen shows at the Centre Pompidou, a few minutes to the east, and I had been, grudgingly, to the vast mall at Les Halles right next door many times when a trip to Muji was unavoidable. I’d even met friends after work at Iovine’s pizzeria one bitingly cold winter’s evening, almost directly opposite the Bourse’s grand entrance, but still, I’d never seen it. It was just one more pile of haughtily beautiful pale Parisian stonework that my eyes slid over and my brain failed to register.”

























