Paris in the Summer

Just a snapshot of my European summer...

'Meet an old friend not seen for many months. We ride to old Dunkirk, a place of war time memories and friendly faces; English is rarely spoken, now French is on my lips. Arrive in old Paris and fall in love with her after our meeting for the third time. It seems the old saying rings true. Her wintry woes cannot be felt this time and I am welcomed like a favoured recurring dream. Fondness aside, her history expands beyond all time yet her beauty does not spread itself so thin. The Notre Dame it sings the hymns that once rang through it walls. The birds of the city know they cannot compare with the whistles and cheeps they produce. The darker side of Saint Germaine boasts the remaining life moments of Marie Antoinette. Her prison cell, like her, is extravagant and captures my bewildered gaze for many moments. And the Eiffel Tower on the hour it beams and pulsates amazing light like the world’s greatest discoteque, I cannot help but dance about. But it is the simpler things that I love. To see the clown faced juggler trying to earn his way upon the Metro line. And how the French only eat sweets, and it’s meant to be breakfast time. Paris, Paris, oh how I do, finally, love thee.'