ADVENTURES

that time in Paris

When we left the train platform, we saw a man waiting with a spectacular bouquet of fresh flowers. He was wearing an eager look. We both knew we had to stop. We stood and watched, reflecting his eagerness as we excitedly made up romantic stories about who he was waiting for. A woman approached with a face like thunder. It softened into sadness as he wrapped his arms around her. We wondered where she had been and what she had lost as we made up new stories, this time with tragic twists and happy endings.

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Sat in a Parisian apartment, on a sunny Spring afternoon with three beautiful women, conversation flowing as easy as the Prosecco. I remember thinking about how I felt so happy just to be there with you and I hope I told you that. I try to make it a habit to express my gratitude for these perfect moments, but maybe I just thought it. 

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We walked around the city. Selfies at the Eiffel Tower. Selfies at every landmark. Photobombing each others photos. We explored arcades and architecture. We got separated in crowds of shoppers. We carried the grocery bag between us, one handle each. We sat and watched street vendors and other tourists. We had drinks on a roof terrace, looking over the cityscape. We didn’t find the eclairs we were looking for.

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I remember us joking about on the Metro. I don’t remember what we were laughing at, only that it was hilarious.

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We went to the Moulin Rouge. The four of us on squeezed around a table with an American couple. An older woman and younger man. I hoped they were lovers, but they were mother and son. We chatted away, getting friendly, but never asking their names. Afterwards we named them Sandra and Tom, though you thought she looked like a Barbara and I still think he looked like an Anthony, or maybe a Tony. The champagne was very good. We enjoyed the experience. Part of me longed to be a showgirl and I wondered why.  

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As we crossed the road, some guy stopped in the middle of the road to check me out as I walked past. I didn't notice because I was busy crossing the road, but I was glad you did, my ego loved it.  

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I unrolled a piece a paper that told me “Trust yourself”. I made some comment about how I was working on it and you said “You already do.” Then I remembered I did, and now if that doesn’t seem true, I hear you in my head reminding me.

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There were a lot of beautiful men in Paris, but I say that about most places. There are beautiful men everywhere.

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On Sunday morning, we ate breakfast by the window of our airbnb apartment. I was on the chaise lounge of course. We could see the shape of a man, through the window of the building opposite, a blurred bare torso moving back and forth. We giggled, glancing away, checking again. “No he isn't.” “What else could he be doing?” “Is he?” “Are you sure?” You sat facing the window like it was a cinema screen, eating morning pastries as if they were popcorn. Then the movement changed and it was immediately confirmed that the activity was not a sex act, but most likely a vigorous clean of a filthy oven… it is so easy to confuse those two.