Tonight I am in post war Paris, at a busy café. I am distractedly having wine at a table, when the radio begins playing Lucienne Boyer’s “Parlez-Moi D’amour”. And I suddenly get the strangest feeling that I have been here before. I have been in this room with these strangers. I have already smoked this cigarette. I have felt this draft from the door opening and closing and I have felt this flush of heat on my chest from the wine. I have smelled the lady’s perfume at the table next to me; and I have noticed the face of the man she is seated with, whose eyes met up with mine for a brief second before looking away. I have been in this moment before.
But I have been never been to Paris.
But I have been never been to Paris.
You paint such a colorful picture... I love this anecdote.
ReplyDeleteI read this with the song playing in the background. Now, I feel like I'm in Paris.
ReplyDelete