Quand il me prend dans ses bras
Qu'il me parle tout bas
Je vois la vie en Rose
Il me dit des mots d'amour
Des mots de tout les jours
Et ca me fait quelque chose
For years, I have listened to this SONG, reminding me every day that I am in the city of love, PARIS. I can still hear my mother humming along to the chorus as she got dressed in her powder room years ago. As a child, I would watch her close her eyes and smile while holding my hands and TWIRLING me around the room. I would often imagine us dancing at the top of the EIFFEL TOWER with our berets crying out "Vivre Paris," as I had read in the Comtesse de SEGUR books my mother had purchased for me. Nonetheless, for her, it was her way to relive the memories of when she lived in Europe; she could still SMELL, TASTE, SEE, HEAR and FEEL it in her heart. "You have never felt TRUE love until you have been to Paris," she would often tell me. In a quest to UNRAVEL the mysteries of my mother's first love, I went to France to feed my curiosity, and became a victim of love at first SIGHT.
I quickly rush to the bathroom to prepare myself for another day of exploration. The city's rich culture never ceases to AMAZE me. There is always something new to SEE; whether it is an art exhibition or books at local libraries. Paris is the MECCA of the old and the new living PLEASANTLY hand and hand. The refreshing SPRING air fills the apartment as I prepare my breakfast. Two BRIOCHES and homemade APRICOT jelly that I enjoy to the last bite accompany the AROMATIC Nigerian coffee. I grab my bag and straw hat and head to the door. The narrow brick stone STREETS were filled with cars parked on each side of the road. The buildings' shadows dim the pathways that lead to the park. The open SHUTTERS give way to the songs of the city's HEART, from the voices of people speaking their native tongues to the SOUNDS of records playing famous songs by singers such as CHARLES AZNAVOUR. I head down to the JARDIN DES TUILERIES, admiring the tall trees, the blooming rosebushes and the butterflies floating in the air. It was indeed spring, as I observed the LOVERS holding hands, stealing kisses and WALTZING toward the many bridges towering above the SEINE river. It was ofter at the borders of the water that lovers go to express their EMOTIONS for one another in front of the WHOLE world. As EDITH PIAF said in her song "LES AMANTS DE PARIS," once in the city, lovers have their special way of DEVOTING to love. Even if you are alone, in Paris, it always seems that love was just AROUND the corner.
I headed towards a bridge to see what was going on on the other side of the CITY...