My heart hurts.
My heart hurts for all of Paris, for all of France.
My heart hurts for the entire world that travels to see such an amazing, renowned piece of architecture.
My heart hurts for the Catholics who went to pray there every day.
My heart hurts selfishly, for it was my favorite Pairs landmark. My favorite spot to stroll along the bank. A scene from some of my most cherished memories.
My heart hurts for those who never had the opportunity to witness the notorious cathedral for themselves.
My heart hurts for this 13th century masterpiece, an outstanding piece of history, an icon to the city, one of the finest examples of French Gothic architecture.
My heart hurts because this is not just a tragedy for Paris, but a tragedy for the world.
My heart hurts because there is nothing to do but sit in horror and watch this iconic place of worship burn to the ground.
It’s 4/15/2019, and I am sitting in my coffee shop watching the Notre Dame Cathedral of Paris go up in flames on my computer screen. Feelings of disbelief, horror, and sickness have engulfed me like the flames engulf the beloved piece of art. This is a tragedy for everyone. Near and far, people recognize Notre Dame as one of the most iconic places in history. And as I type, it is quickly burning to the ground.
My heart hurts because the Paris landscape will never be the same. Because Paris itself will never truly be the same.