October 30, 2012

My dearest,

Oh Paris! You would sometimes moan. It’s not the romance of the city that has got you cooing; it’s the thought of shopping and shopping. (I dread what would happen when you enter the Louis Vuitton flagship store; could I even persuade you to leave after?)

Yet me, I still have hopes, a small dream, that we would hold hands beneath the shadow of the Eiffel Tower, look up at the lights of the city together, and dance.

Hard to kill a romantic, you see; you can only pretend he’s not there when he’s hibernating but you know, deep down, he’s only hiding.

Oh Paris!

Yours, ever and always.