It is appropriate that I am a little tipsy on red wine while typing this…

…I miss Paris.  I miss it so much that my heart is bubbling with the tenderness of a rolled “R”.  When I go to Paris I feel full.  Sure, I may have just eaten half of my weight in cheese and filled the other half with muscles from Leon’s.  But that is not the kind of full that I mean.

There is a different oxegyn in Paris.  Anywhere else you will breath because your body tells you to.  In Paris breath exists so that we may enjoy life.  My breath in Paris pulls me forward…up the Champs Elyses and into a seat at Les Deux Magots.   Each corner bookstore is a new inhalation and there is sweet air.  Perhaps the air is sweet because of each patisserie on each street.  On my last trip to Paris each time I walked onto the Rue Cler in search of the freshest baguette this side of the Seine I was invegorated.  I don’t need the museums or the places you must go.  I just need Paris.  The streets are where you want to be and where you want to live because it’s where you can find the most Parisian air.  The streets walk themselves up and down and the curves of the Marais are as beautiful as a woman.  Imagine being a woman walking on those heavenly feminine curves.  Delicious!

Each time you step outside in Paris falling in love doesn’t even come close to how you feel.  Love is fleeting and flightly.  Paris stands as it is and will love you unconditionally as it becomes what you want it to be.