He was a violinist, father of five girls, married to the most beautiful woman in the city. His youngest daughter, Marguerite, was the exact copy of her mum except for the colour of her hair. She was particularly easy to recognize because she was the only redhead in the town. She always had a beautiful blue feather in her hair which was given to her father. She kept it as a charm. She was tall and corpulent. She had freckles all over her face which gave her a distinctive look. She was his favorite. Unfortunately, she had died just two days before. He pretended  not to be affected by this situation because she had been ill for several months; so, he got used to the idea that she might not survive her illness. Even though he was saddened by his loss, he tried not to show anything. Indeed, only one thing was a real source for concern to him:  his violin. Only his violin could make him happy. When he was playing the violin, he brought his audience to another world, a more peaceful world, a world where only luxury, peace and pleasure existed.

He was well-known not only because he was the best violinist but also because he did not have a left arm. He had lost his arm when he was five years old due to a serious infection. This particularity had strengthened his temperament and because he did not have the same chance as the other children; as he wanted to become a violinist, he fought harder and harder in order to earn a reputation. Sometimes he even played the violin until his hand was lacerated by the violin strings. Thanks to this arduous work, he had come to reach perfection. Each note he played was not a regular note but a beautiful sound coming from his wooden instrument. This violin was a gift from his father who had also inherited it from his father. He was the first of his family who became famous thanks to this cultural heritage. That was the reason why his relatives, except from his wife and daughters, did not really appreciate his company. Besides, everybody thought he was a tyrannical person because he always had a grumpy look and moody disposition.  It is true that at first sight, he seemed extremely bad-tempered and unwelcoming even though he was always doing his best when he played music and he was also taking great care of his family. Sometimes people thought he was sullen but it was only because he was very shy. He was someone with a big heart, he loved his daughters and wife even more than the apple of his eye. He was also very respected and  respectful. He was an introverted person who enjoyed spending time alone.

On that particular day, the king was going to his hometown to inaugurate a newly-built theatre. Thanks to the recognition he had garnered, the violinist was invited to celebrate this wonderful building. Everything was ready for the inauguration ceremony: indeed, there was a whole banquet full of food and wine and everybody was excited by the king being there to attend the ceremony. However, during the party, the violinist was asked to play his most famous masterpiece that was entitled “Marguerite”, named after his favorite daughter. He had refused to play and preferred to take some fresh air by the window, such anguish he felt. He walked towards the window and reached the table near the window whose façade was covered by ivy; there, in this quiet and remote place, he took a glass of wine in order to drown his sorrows. He was looking at the horizon and at the beautiful garden full of roses that reminded him of his beloved daughter. That was the first time in his life he had put his violin aside. In fact, deep in his thoughts, he had completely forgotten the inauguration ceremony and was only dreaming of the time when his daughter was still alive and when he used to play for her.

I was stuck in front of this masterpiece. My elder brother was next to me, looking carefully at another painting, a Renoir. He was behaving as if he understood every single detail. In his eyes, I could see people dancing at the ball, drinking and eating, enjoying the pleasant moment. Everything seemed to be very clear to him whereas it was very confusing to me. At that time I did not understand why people liked going to the museum. For a long time, I have thought that people went to museums or listened to classical music only because they wanted to appear educated. I was six years old at the time and I was stuck in front of this chef d’oeuvre not because I was passionate about art but because I did not fully understand it.

It was my family’s custom to visit a museum on Sundays. Each visit I discovered a different place. Every time I looked carefully at all the details to write a new page of my story. It was not only a moment to discover different places but also an instant that my family and I shared together. 

All these moments had one thing in common: every time, after being an hour in a museum, my brother and I began pulling each other’s hair because staying for a long time in the museum was annoying to us – we were quite young at the time and an hour seemed like ages. The more we bothered each other, the funnier it was. We always ended by sitting on a bench or somewhere in the museum and were talking about ourselves. Each time, it was a kind of a retrospective moment when we were making our most important decisions.  Indeed, it was a moment when two brothers were listening to each other, enjoying the pleasant time, laughing together.  

Going to the museum proved to be quite an experience since I learnt about both my cultural background and it enabled me to create a strong relationship with my brother. Furthermore, while I was learning the stories of “The Raft of the Medusa”, the Second World War, or the ancient Greek civilization, and even more, I was also discovering my native city. I could never have imagined that there were so many wonderful places. The museum I like best in Paris is the Orsay museum because when I go there, I can stay for hours watching the main hall. I have never seen so beautiful a ceiling. There is no word that can perfectly describe the beauty of this place. The multiple giant glass windows in the ceiling highlight the curvature of the wall which looks like the curvature of a train. Indeed, this former railway station was refurbished into a museum. Besides, the huge clock that is hung in the middle is really impressive. I think that if this place were still a railway station, I would go there every day to see the seesaw motion: indeed, watching people walking to catch their trains, drinking a cup of coffee or even waiting for departure is always something fascinating. But now this place puts every single masterpiece in the museum into light. Another of my favorite places is definitely the Luxembourg garden, which was opposite my former high school. Each time I think of it, it reminds me of Vincent Van Gogh’s painting, “Terrace in the Luxembourg garden” which describes perfectly well this spot. I have always loved wandering in this garden since I can find so many different things from small sculptures by famous artists to the mysterious gazebo where some orchestras sometimes play classical music, not to mention the large pool in the middle where children can have their boats sail and the magnificent Senate building. This garden is full of resources; that’s why, I think that it is the most beautiful garden I have ever seen. In all the different seasons, it looks like a different painting and, in my opinion, the best one is definitely in autumn where the leaves turn red and the sunlight is not so strong as in summer and not so poor as in winter. The autumn is often associated with melancholy but from my point of view, it brings sensuousness to this beautiful landscape. 

Entering each one of these places was like reaching the rabbit’s hole in Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.

Describing a place is a daunting task because people are used to seeing colorful descriptions from our best authors. It can praise a place you like or even a place you want to share because it is not so appreciated enough, or at least not appreciated enough. I want to speak about New Haven Union Station. Of course, every day, thousands of people use this railway station to go to work, to discover different places or even to take a coffee, but they usually do not pay attention to it, because it is only a transit area – what architects now call a “transport hub”. Sometimes, railway stations are some beautiful spots because of their architecture, but people are used to missing such stunning places. Like Grand Central Station in NYC, New Haven’s railway station is obviously one of these. 

The first time I went to this railway station to go to New York, I stayed there for a few minutes just looking at the beaux-arts Union Station. I was surprised to see so lovely a place. It was both very impressive by its size and it was also welcoming, thanks to the large windows which enable the visitors to have their first impressions of the inside. The building was at the same time very proportional and asymmetrical because of the structure and the windows which were all differently sized. Indeed, when I caught sight of the building, it seemed to be a big rectangle surrounded by thousands of windows. But when I peered into it a little more closely, everything became crystal clear. Every stone was in its perfect place. Each stone from this huge stonewall represented a lick of paint in this beautiful impressionist painting. When I gathered all the details, I realised that it looks like a 1000-piece jigsaw puzzle.

As a matter of fact, when I entered the building the very first time, I was dazzled by the light coming through all the openings. Besides that, the artificial lights within were inside were illuminating this beautiful ceiling that is decorated with golden roses and ornaments, which were reflected in the round lanterns. The white wall of ashlar was also a light source. The old clock that hung right in the middle was stuck at 9 o’clock sharp; then, I spent some time looking at the miniature trains from all the different times of the history of America in a small glass box. The American flag was waving in the wind coming from the main door which was always open because of the seesaw motion. During one instant, it seemed that time had come to a halt and everything seemed to be timeless. I was back in the 1920s just after the inauguration of New Haven’s Union Station. It was like an old black-and-white American movie. I was deeply captivated by the whole place so I scanned all the details in order to learn more about this truly amazing historic place. I noticed that New Haven’s railway station is not only an area where all the railroads meet but also a real melting pot. Indeed, at least during the waiting time, different types of people are mixed and they all have something in common: they are waiting for departure. Some people are reading the newspaper, others are drinking a cup of coffee or even sleeping on the bench but they are all waiting for their trains. 

  While I was walking to get my train, I moved through the long tunnel that is made of aluminium with floors of red blocks. This tunnel is particularly memorable because initially, it really is an eye-sore. But when I walked into it, I had the impression of moving to another time dimension on my way  into a space shuttle.   

All in all, it is usually more interesting to look at the place you are in instead of looking at your cellphone. Even if it is the umpteenth time you go there, there is always something to learn: most people do not pay attention to the place they live in or travel through on a daily basis, but such places as New Haven’s Union Station are really worthwhile lingering in because they are architectural masterpiece and they do have a soul.

Hardly a week goes by without there being a new place to discover. Since I arrived last Friday at JFK airport, I have been visiting some parts of New York City and I have seen many different places. Visiting the United States is very rewarding from a cultural standpoint because it is gathering different architectural places from very old-fashioned buildings to modern ones. Therefore, at first, we can have mixed feelings about this country because it is full of contrasts. When I first arrived in New York City, I was definitely impressed by its size: indeed, everything seemed huge and impressive, especially if you compare the city to my native town, namely Paris. Besides, my first impression was that this city did not have any real soul. The height of the skyscrapers did not help making me change my mind. So I felt disappointed even if such architectural feats as the Brooklyn Bridge or the Empire State building are both impressive and amazing. Indeed, they definitely are landmarks in New York City.  However, I had the opportunity to go to different sites, and I gradually came to appreciate the town with all its diversity. On the one hand, walking near the Manhattan harbor and seeing the statue of Liberty sent shivers down my spine: actually, I recalled that the statue was meant to welcome the immigrants looking for a brighter future in America at the beginning of the XXth century. On the other hand, going to the Memorial museum was quite an experience since all the names written on the Memorial bring back the memory of all the people who pointlessly died during the terrorist attacks of September 11. Surprisingly, I was recently told that one of my friends who was living near the World Trade Center and working in one of the Twin Towers narrowly escaped. Indeed, on the day of the terrorist attacks, his daughter had a heavy bag so he decided to go with her to her school. Thanks to that, he arrived late for work and he was not in the tower during the attacks. He also told me that the following two days were a real mess and he wasn’t able to find his relatives because all the telephone lines were cut off. So, everybody in his family was worried about him until they eventually found each other again afterwards. I think this story is amazing because that man’s life was saved just because he was late for having helped his daughter. Besides, I do believe that the survivor tree that remains on that site is a sign of hope that is aimed at showing that nature can be stronger than human violence. 

Then, when I arrived on Yale’s campus, everything was different from what I had seen in New York City. As a matter of fact, I was amazed at the beauty of the place with a perfect cohesion between old-fashioned and modern buildings. At first, it seemed unreal because Yale’s campus looks like a movie set and when you enter the buildings you can see that it is real. From one room to another, there are so many different things to see. It is like reading a new page from an old manuscript. Besides, I was dazzled when I first came into the library to see how many books there were. In fact, I did not know where to look because everything was so bewitching. The ambient light coming from the stained-glass window was illuminating every single detail of this special place. This colossal building seemed at the same time cold because of its size and the cut stone but also warm thanks to its history: I stood there for a few minutes blissfully happy and thinking about the generations of students who had been studying there. I also learnt about the story of a secret group that was founded in Yale in 1832: it was called “the skull and bones”. There were rumors about their schemes and their participation in the Central Intelligence Agency. Yet, these conspiracy theories remained mysterious and nobody really knew what happened since all the students were linked by a secret pact. The other aspect of my arrival here which leaves a lasting impression is having met other students coming from different countries worldwide. Indeed, it is always fascinating to speak to people who do not have the same cultural and educational backgrounds and to be able to compare your experiences.

All in all, I have mixed feelings about my arrival in America because of its various architectural styles but, as the saying goes “don’t judge a book by its cover”; so, I am really looking forward to knowing more about America and I am sure that my stay in Yale is going to broaden my horizons.