I'm often surprised how amy image of Paris does this to me. I was there once (so far) but for those two weeks I was incredibly blissfully happy. I built this city up in my mind for so long that I was sure I would be disappointed. That nothing I ever could imagine would be true to life...but it was.
It was different. Sometimes it was bitter cold and unwelcoming. Sometimes it would be so glorious that I could not imagine a place like this truly exists in this world. And the light...the PINK light that warmly envelops you...surrounds you like a visceral being...how does it do that?
Why do I miss it so? Why do I love this city even though I have no true ties to it...why do I yearn to go back so much that it often brings back a tear? How is this city able to touch so many people from different backgrounds, with different pasts and make them fall in love with it again and again. It's just Paris after all. But it is JUST Paris. It will never be a cliche. It will never stop being amazing.
I know I will be back. I want to go back with him.
Paris should be seen with the man who will always love you.
" "La Vie en Rose" means seeing life through pink-colored glasses. And only in Paris, where the light is pink, that is possible."
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