Okay, so a train is coming and we just got off the Metro or bought our tickets and went through those weird things with double doors. in any event, I can smell the ticket stub smell and the smell of the Paris metro generally, sort of like old oil and train exhaust and wet paper and people. The sun is shining from behind a cloud somewhere over rue Mazarine where you used to live and where I got coffee by myself one morning and thought of you and wrote poems to you. A bird is flying near napoleon's tomb. The lights are beginning to dim, and the centre of town lights up like a Christmas Tree and the Champs Elysees is busy with traffic and I can see the rear lights of the cars. So many colors. I can smell the crepe stand on the corner not too far away and imagine him spinning out his crepes so easily round. I think, later we'll go and have one with butter and sugar. I think, god, this is our Paris . I think, I'm wearing my wedding veil again because I was playing and then you took me and told me You know what happens to brides, and then you took me to our room. This is where I am now, in my veil, with you at my side, our eyes interlocking, our bodies moving in time, and the smell of my perfume - Parure and Guerlain filling up the room - and in the moment just before I see us running down the promenade of the Jardin Luxembourg, my veil flying out behind me, my little hand in yours. Huh.... we are in love...