More of that weird Paris essay thing:
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The Paris Love Affair
Paris doesn't stop there. You realize that what you thought was a dangerous virus is actually an equally dangerous yet insanely thrilling addiction that's potentially just as destructive as cocaine; but unlike cocaine, you might get something productive out of this addiction even if it's just a three line poem.
And that's when your addiction turns into full blown infatuation. You start seeing the little things, like how the silent owners of the equally quiet, cozy cafes smile and nod when you apologize for eating pastries from another bakery, or how people may be discourteous enough to smoke like chimneys, but courteous enough to blow the smoke up away from your face, or how the train station security guard on a smoking break directs you to his favorite cafe without you even asking.
And just when you think Paris can't get any more beautiful, you see a mother put her two young sons on a train for the countryside near Lyon with slightly tearful hugs and kisses and you watch as another woman runs to catch her train, her gray cocker spaniel jogging faithfully behind her.
And you think that maybe this isn't an addiction any more than it is a virus, that maybe, just maybe, Paris loves you back.
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TTFN
M.K.Wissler
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