Ten Years Later: Seeing Paris Through a Different Lens

It’s been ten years since I last walked the streets of Paris—not as a tourist, but as someone who once called it home. Coming back after so long, I felt it instantly: the city had changed. Or maybe I had. Probably both.

What struck me most wasn’t just the new storefronts, the extended metro lines, or the traces left behind by the 2024 Olympic Games—it was how unfamiliar the familiar had become. Paris was still beautiful, still chaotic, still rich with texture and contrast… maybe just a bit cleaner. But this time, I was seeing it through a different lens—literally.

Ten years ago, I wasn’t even shooting film. I hadn’t yet rediscovered the appeal of grain, the depth of monochrome, or the mindful process of working with film. Back then, I captured quick digital snapshots—clean, sharp, and easy to forget. Today, I carry a Canonet QL17 GIII loaded with Ilford HP5, letting light, shadow, and imperfection shape the narrative.

I spent this recent stay in a different arrondissement from where I used to live. That shift alone—being in a new neighborhood—reshaped my perspective. 

It took me a while to start shooting—maybe I was overwhelmed by the pressure to capture something meaningful. After all, I was in the City of Light. Eventually, I decided to begin my days earlier. Mornings became a ritual. I would walk the nearly empty streets, when the city was still shaking off the night. Cafés were just opening, the scent of baking bread and fresh pasties filling the air, and shadows stretching long between the buildings.

Through my lens, I began to notice the small things again—the condensation on café windows, the morning light hitting the zinc rooftops, the silhouette of a chef beginning his prep through the open door of a bistro, or the soft fall of light in a quiet alleyway. Details I might have overlooked before. Maybe it’s age. Maybe it’s the deliberate pace of film photography that invites a slower gaze, a deeper kind of attention.

I think that’s what this whole series is about: rediscovering a place you thought you knew, and realizing how much of yourself has shifted and how you see things differently. I wasn’t just photographing Paris; I was reconnecting with old memories while discovering it through a new perspective. 

The grain in the photos mirrors the haziness of nostalgia. The imperfections remind me that nothing stays frozen in time—not the city, not me. But somehow, that’s what makes these images feel more real to me.

You won’t find iconic landmarks in most of the shots. No Eiffel Tower glamour or postcard moments. These are quieter stories: empty ashtray on a café table, people sunbathing on the riverbanks, a street corner bathed in morning gold. Paris, in between the noise.

I’ll be sharing some of those moments here—and more over on Instagram @grainyrolls. I hope they resonate with anyone who’s ever returned to a place that once felt like home. Rediscovering the familiar through a different lens.

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