“That city feels so far away from me today, yet daily her old fragrance squirms beneath my skin and rises through my pores, exciting me so senselessly and stirring up my longing for her scent. That City gave me wings and took my breath away. She took my wallet, my security, and solid self-control. She stole away my logic and then asked for my heart. I gave it freely, gladly, broken open. If I was once clear sighted, that city blinded me. She spun me round in dizzy circles, then grabbed me by the hand, and ran full heartedly, leaving me lost in mazey alleyways of cobblestone and charm. It rained the wettest truest rain upon those streets and I was left to wander lost for days, lonely and intoxicated by a dreamlike haze of awe.
“That city found me everywhere and led me through her palaces and courtyards, through her slums and mysteries. She wandered up to me in a hundred different forms and handed gifts to me, piercing me with eyes that saw straight through me, whispering strange secrets in my ear in lucid languages I only sometimes understood. That city wooed me, saw right through me, kissed me fully on my lustful lips; then walked away. She played me music, met me in cafes and left me crying at the bar. She wandered illusive through my days and wine-stained nights, barefoot always just one step ahead, dancing. Or jumping out from behind hidden corners of my dreams.
“That city sometimes soothed me and sometimes made me laugh. That city took away my name and let me be whoever I could dare to be at any moment of the day. She was undoubtedly enchanted I am sure, for she still lingers with me, calling always softly in the nighttime, tickling my feet and beckoning, beckoning with promises and memories.”
–Seren Rubens, writing about Paris in a writing practice class