We were sitting by the grass, clinging $5 nuttela crepes off the street watching everyone float by. A few months before, there seemed so many reasons to leave home, the main one a 1000ft steel tower that made the most distant of lovers, curious nomads and drifters become permanent dwellers in this scene. It seemed that, from any angle of Paris, there was “Le Tour Eiffel”, from my bus seat, my cafe window, my moving train. I hung on tight, closing in and revelling on every picture taken and every memory snapped between them.
They said leave your city behind, and so we find ourselves here. The city of Phoenix, Morisson and Hugo with all of their famed stories. Everyone or someone was named Francóis or Marion or Méchelle and they just fall off your tongue like its the high life. We hoisted ourselves through many museums, churches, rivers, finding enchantment in street names and statues as if quietly, we needed to belong. We sat on french steps, watching free music til the sun set and welcomed the night with flashes of Moulin Rouge down the alley way. There were love letters and rolling hills, carousels and rushes of leaves that passed every traveller. Even its dark corners and flares of graffiti held its charm, saying, this is Paris. We knew this was where we wanted to be, and forever seemed not too long to get here.
We know, there are all kinds of love, fleeting and constant. And like all other wanderers, we fell in love with this city, with purely the permanent kind. Encoré Paris. Whereever we go, we take you with us. Heres to everyday, every hour, where we always meant to say, c’est la vie!