On every trip to Paris, there are the usual musts—the Eiffel Tower, a stroll along the Seine—but for me, no visit feels complete without following in the footsteps of my favorite historical figures. That means a stop at Les Deux Magots, where Picasso once sketched and where Ernest Hemingway lingered over conversations and strong coffee.

There’s something about Van Gogh’s Sunflowers that just feels like summer — warm, wild, unapologetically golden.

There’s a kind of madness that lives in all of us.
Not the unraveling kind—
but the electric kind.

Of Madness.

Of Magic.

Of Moments.

And everything in between.