There's a place in Paris, that takes my breath away. Nestled behind large, ornate, black wrought iron gates is a door that leads into a little romantic escapism.
The Buddha-bar is in rue Boissy d’Anglas. It is a half lit fantasy world inhabited by an electric blue dragon, enamel red chandeliers and a gilded two story buddha that oversees this setting, where French and Asian seamlessly fuse in style, mood and food.
But above all, it is home to a sound that I have learnt to love and create with in my studio. Music from the world is melded here, a rich stir fry that infuses my spirit with a melancholy that transports me to the other side when I am in the depths of making art.
There’s a fashionable trend in the west to pursue some essence of Buddhism, without a desire to commit to all the rigours the discipline requires. In our material world it sits awkwardly, for at its heart is a simple life. A commitment to a set of straight forward fundamentals that allow us to embrace life with little.
As I looked out my hotel window in Paris, I realised the old man I had watched across the road, sitting on his street corner day after day, in a quiet and dignified manner, had it.