The Notre Dame.
Snow. I swore I saw Quasimodo. Right there... look! Between those parapets. Dang, he's quick. Cue the scary music.
This night, I set up and took aim at the side of the Notre Dame Cathedral. The ghosts of writers, emperors, members of the clergy and Victor Hugo all looking on, or so it felt. I apologized to them for swearing so prolifically as huge gobs of snow landed on my lens, blurring up my perfect shot du arte. It always landed on the best shot. Grrrr. I shoulda planned better. Clearly, I didn't. It doesn't look like it was snowing that much - you can only sorta see it in the light on the upper left - but trust me, it was and I was soaked. My surly, potty-mouthed self was determined to walk away victorious and I would have stood there all damn night if I had to. Much to my HUGE relief, I didn't have to.
I left the lens distortion, a couple of blurrrrrs. The skew fit the mood, told the the story, covered the sense "surreality" I felt standing there that night.
I hope Victor Hugo would approve. But I think he was cranky. So I'll just have to approve of myself. ;-))