Hmm... What I want this to be...
What I want this to be, really want people to see, is a frank, obsessed, depressed, and all desperate love letter to Paris. To the city, to her woman's soul, sweet Paris Lo.
If there is a question, let Paris be the answer always on the tip of my tongue. Waiting to slip out at any breath. Paris, Paris, Paris. Let the lady be satisfied. Let her never be forgotten in my mind.
Her beauty, and her inescapable passion.
*****
Rachel, she's unequivocally pretty and not altogether approachable. It's only by the chancest of occasions that we happened to find ourselves shaking hands politely.
"Rachel," she'd say. "Nice to meet you."
"Brian. It's a pleasure." And it is. Still now, she makes life such a pleasant melodrama. But I'm starting to find stress in all the nothing I've been doing.
