Place de la République, Paris
And here we are again in this rainy afternoon.
Saying hello to you is always so strange. I dread the small talk and I can't stop apologising about the stupid tripod.
I don't know how, but we're back in Paris, back in these streets that never change, the city feels as I had never left. We are a few meters away from my old room, from my old balcony. The feeling is unbearable.
And then you smile, and you talk, that beautiful soothing voice that seems to be forever smiling; that way you have of explaining the most simple of things in your perfect spanish.
"It's so nice to be back in Paris!", you say.
"Speak for yourself, I HAD to come back even if I didn't want to", I answer.
"Don't be sad, or angry, hey, we were able to meet again didn't we?"
"How come we can travel and meet everywhere in the world? I'm dead broke!"
"So, how's Canada? and Mexico? are you happy? what's going to happen with you?"
And the conversation goes on like this, we could talk about anything for ages, I like the sound of your voice so much, I'm just happy to be with you and bathe in your radiance.
You have cleansed Paris for me. You have erased and superposed awful memories and episodes of darkness and sadness with good memories and images of your kindness.
Until our next meeting. THANK YOU.