It was one of the starry, crisp Paris nights where the quaint moonlit café's and the eloquence of the refined french language blended into one another to give writers the base of a romantic novel and film directors the gut to make a blown-out-of-proportion love story.
As the rain pelted down, the silence grew thicker and besides the occasional smoker underneath café shades there wasn't a nuance of the city being alive. That was up until you reached the much acclaimed Eiffel Tower. It seemed like a new Paris- lit beyond imagination, bustling with people and wrapped in a flawless fragrance of wine and smoke. There were couples and entire families lying down on the floor with the Eiffel in front of them and budding entrepreneurs running around serving them wine as their latest venture seemed to be making considerable strides.
It all looked picturesque in the larger sense, but as you sifted through the nooks and infringements you saw numerous girls waiting to be taken. This girl in particular stood with her leg perched up against the wall, her red lips smoking a cigarette and her raven hair naturally poised at beautiful. She had the most solid eyes. As the bells of a distant clock struck 12- she ashed her cigarette, took a shabby half bag from the ground and turned around, adept at every move and said "I'm no cinderella, but 12 o' clock does mean work."
Everyone takes a part of Paris with them as they leave and just that occasional one time it isn't part of a fairytale..and this was it, on that starry damp Paris night.
As the rain pelted down, the silence grew thicker and besides the occasional smoker underneath café shades there wasn't a nuance of the city being alive. That was up until you reached the much acclaimed Eiffel Tower. It seemed like a new Paris- lit beyond imagination, bustling with people and wrapped in a flawless fragrance of wine and smoke. There were couples and entire families lying down on the floor with the Eiffel in front of them and budding entrepreneurs running around serving them wine as their latest venture seemed to be making considerable strides.
It all looked picturesque in the larger sense, but as you sifted through the nooks and infringements you saw numerous girls waiting to be taken. This girl in particular stood with her leg perched up against the wall, her red lips smoking a cigarette and her raven hair naturally poised at beautiful. She had the most solid eyes. As the bells of a distant clock struck 12- she ashed her cigarette, took a shabby half bag from the ground and turned around, adept at every move and said "I'm no cinderella, but 12 o' clock does mean work."
Everyone takes a part of Paris with them as they leave and just that occasional one time it isn't part of a fairytale..and this was it, on that starry damp Paris night.
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