The Flight from Paris

I did a lot of crying, I felt a lot of pain. I had fallen in love with Paris more than I ever thought possible. My time there was frustrating, as I didn’t know the language very well, yet so intoxicating. I loved the sleek women dressed in such well put together fashions; I hated the men who followed me around like a stench; I loved the tiny, cobbled streets just off of the big thoroughfares; I hated seeing the women and children begging in the metro tunnels. Above all, I loved how I felt in Paris, hearing French, immersed in French culture. It felt right. It agreed so well with me. This trip would spur my next year’s studies and thoughts as I dreamt of returning to France. In exactly one year, I did, taking myself down to Provence to fall in love all over again. “I’ve gained as many layers as I’ve taken off, learned as many lessons as I’ve thrown away.”

Photo: The Square Louis XVI at the Place de Vosges in the Marais