Perfect Paris

Today was one of those days you should have killed to be in Paris. And it was even raining this morning. You would have woken up hearing the rain on the windows - dreading the umbrella and the damp and the cold and the grey and another unloved day. So that when you got outside and instead found warm sun and blue sky you would have felt such a simple but profound happiness - like you just won something. And with the streets still wet the smells from the boulangeries and patisseries would have been that much stronger - I swear to God you could have almost tasted the butter and the sugar in the air. And the cafes threw open their windows - walls disappeared - they would have seamlessly drawn you in - and with the aromas of strong coffee and cigarettes you would have understood smoking in the morning - standing over a basket of croissants at the bar. And tonight - the neighbors all seem to be out on their balconies - drinking wine - talking on phones - soaking up the happiness - no one quite wanting to let go of this day.