Homeless in Paris

A city we had never seen embraces us. Countless legends wind through the city's cobblestone streets. Their perpetual essence whispers in the cold April night. One need only strut down a Parisian alley to be enveloped in the mystique of the satin-like language. Words roll off their tongues like butter melting on a pan.

Let's be daring.

The Gothic magnificence of Notre-Dame de Paris strikes a bolt of lightning. Such opulence cannot be real. Our eyes refuse to believe that which they see before them. Yet, this is true.

We are here. 

   In Paris.

     City of lights.

       Cradle of glamour.

         Haven of love.

Twelve consecutive dongs endow us with the time: midnight. The night has only begun. 

Let's be reckless.

Two dashing strangers dazzle us with beaming smiles. They speak no English. We speak no French. Several attempts to initiate a conversation prove ineffective. Somehow we discover gestures and smiles suffice in matters of allure. 

The strangers join our nocturnal crusade. A continual parade of cafés and bars gild this soirée. Champagne and French wine deflate inhibitions. Our story seeks to intertwine with the legends in this Parisian quilt of fables.

Let's be fearless.

Intermittent glittering embellishes the skyline. Our necks must crane to capture the tinsel splendor. The dominance of the Eiffel Tower indisputably reigns over Paris. This proud queen boasts the most ablaze luminescence in the City of Lights.

Rain cascades upon us. Seeking refuge is absurd. This is Paris. Let our clothes be drenched. Let our hair be tangled. Let our shoes slide on the slippery cobblestones. The dashing strangers sway us to the rhythm of the melodic tune they sing. We prance under the Eiffel Tower indifferent to the pouring rain and the rising sun.    

For, what else must one do upon finding oneself homeless in Paris? 

Even if only for a night.