Epilogue

This is a love story. A Moveable Feast was written by a man who was trying to tend to the delicate threads of his life—the threads that joined him to his craft, to those who influenced him, and to the woman he loved most. His writing and his Hadley, each were there in the beginning and each would be there in the end. No other city in any of his travels was as significant, professionally or emotionally, as was Paris.

And it remains there. All of the complexity, beauty, and intrigue that Hemingway described within the pages of his memoir . . . it is all still there in Paris—there for you, to experience for yourself.

It is my hope that through my photographs and through the journals I have kept, I have given original and authentic testimony to the artistic triumph and personal tragedy in Ernest Hemingway’s City of Light.