Of Paris.Of wine.
Of street music.
Of street artists.
Of painters.
Of cute old men.
Of streetside cafes.
Of french baguettes.
Of chocolate fondant.
Of metropole diversity.
Of french cabarets.
Of everything grand, glorious and chic.
It's all about the love... of the bestest of friends.
If anyone would have told me that I was going to be giddy with excitement to make a weekend escape to catch up with T at her new home in Paris, I would have laughed. And yet I was. Giddy like a four year old waiting for Santa on Christmas Eve.It'd been a year since I'd seen the woman, yet you know what they say...
"What destiny brings together, let no distance break apart."Crutches, miscellaneous infections and sheer exhaustion aside (are we getting old, or what?!), I walked off the plane, and straight back in time. We never missed a beat.
We got hopelessly lost... in the airport.
We 'lost' the car.
We ate Spanish tapas to make up for lost time.
I approved The Boy (as if it were ever up to me).
We drank wine.
We wandered and gawked, posed and took pictures.
We laughed at the 50EUR wedding super streets.
We played flower-on-the-wall in cabarets full of character.
We talked and chatted, gossiped and counseled, conspired and sympathized ...
for two days on end.
We 'lost' the car.
We ate Spanish tapas to make up for lost time.
I approved The Boy (as if it were ever up to me).
We drank wine.
We wandered and gawked, posed and took pictures.
We laughed at the 50EUR wedding super streets.
We played flower-on-the-wall in cabarets full of character.
We talked and chatted, gossiped and counseled, conspired and sympathized ...
for two days on end.
We were reminded of the power of friends.
