Est-ce que tu chantais?

We live in an age that honors the rise of the image and the decline of the written word. It is endemic to internet culture and its attendant short attention spans. Yet more meaningful than any essay, travel photo montage, or carefully plated restaurant meal is the feeling of genuine human connection.

Returning from French class, I found myself walking behind an elderly woman carrying a large satchel. She was petite and stooped, perhaps from osteoporosis. The sidewalk was narrow, so I slowed my pace and waited for a chance to pass.

As I drew closer, I heard her softly singing in French.

I slowed even more and listened. She sang for a few moments, then suddenly stopped.

When I finally passed her, I turned and asked, in my halting French, whether she had been singing. She gave me a beautiful smile, nodded, and replied with several sentences I could not understand. I pointed to my ears, mimicked a few notes myself, gave her a thumbs-up, and said, “C’était magnifique.”

She seemed to glow.

As I continued down the sidewalk, I could hear her singing again behind me. It was extraordinarily beautiful. I felt as though I was being followed by an angel.

The next morning, I left early to visit Maison Kayser for a croissant. A fresh croissant, yogurt, and an apple is my go-to breakfast once or twice a week.I had visited often enough to be familiar to the staff. When my turn came, I ordered a single croissant. Although several sat in the display case, the young man behind the counter ignored them, walked to the back, and selected one fresh from the cooling rack.

It was still warm when I returned to my apartment, and it was, without question, the best croissant I have ever tasted.

I came to Paris, among other reasons, to learn French.

What I am learning instead is how much can pass between people without words.