Twenty or so years ago Paris and I met. Despite best efforts, the meeting was awkward at best.
I will spare you the tragedy of my early nineties homestay (i.e. commute) to and from Livry-Gargan to Gambetta whilst navigating the fresh horror of the tragic separation of my then thirteen-year-old harp playing exchange partner Vincent’s insane parents… Ahem…
It never quite felt right. How could a girlie like me, ME, have beef with Paris?
So I went back sola to settle the score. Mission accomplished. Here are my reflections …on, …of, …in Paris.
Merci Paris. À la prochaine…
[Class of ’95 French immersion program…this one’s for you!]