There is a pleasant matching nature of the architecture in certain arrondissements. The buildings are at most ~6 stories high, so sunlight penetrates to street level. Things are neat and tidy. The sun is sunny, the flowers are blooming, and even from inside the plastic people-gerbil terrarium on the front of the Centre Georges-Pompidou, spring feels sprung.
It is easy to feel the iconic "I love Paris in the springtime," although I do not remember the song having any lines contrasting with hail storms in Toronto. Truth is more beautiful, and dramatic, than even clichéd song.
This post's theme word is proxemics, "the study or interpretation of physical proximity between people in various situations; the way in which people interact spatially, esp. in maintaining a certain amount of space between themselves and others." Parisian proxemics please plentifully.
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