At dusk, I would wander the streets of Paris up to Montmartre.
Amongst the artists and gargoyles, the tinkering cutlery and emptying plates, the beautiful and the curious, cigarette smoke and sausages, espressos and laughter, a steady pulsating rhythm of music flowed from the wide steps running down from Sacre Coeur.
I joined the crowd and listened, and savored, as evening descended. From this spot, the whole of Paris sparkled into life before me, as if a gift. Just as I was about to burst, in the far distance, the Eiffel Tower danced into life in a pulsating blue frenzy.
I think this is my favourite spot in Paris. If you don’t shed a tear at these sublime moments, you are without heart.
How can you not love Paris? Beautiful, beautiful Paris.
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