Day 294: If it's Tuesday, it must be Paris

When a friend of mine died awhile back, I went through a crazy grief shock thing. The only music I could listen to was classical (which I'm not even crazy about generally) and the only art I could do was paint-by-number. I'm not a paint-by-number kind of gal either but it was soothing so I went with it.

My paint-by-number masterpiece.

Cut to months later. I'm walking in Paris alone. My travel companion Aine has stopped of at a salon to get herself a Parisian hairdo. I'm wandering around the Louvre and kinda losing my way. I have a vague idea of how to get back to the salon, but I'm not exactly sure where I'm heading.

I turn a corner and stare at the Eiffel Tower only to realize...

... I'm standing in the exact place of my paint-by-number masterpiece.

That is the Law of Attraction at work. Magic. And now a little poem about Paris. Why? Because it's Tuesday.


If it's Tuesday, it must be Paris

If it's Tuesday, it must be Paris
It must be that walk around the corner
And suddenly there she is
The Eiffel Tower
All the hype
All worth it
Until we walk up to her
And are accosted by gypsies
Jingling replicas in tourists faces

If it's Tuesday, it must be Paris
Walks along the Seine
Laughing in the rain
Isn't that how it goes?
A cramped tour around Notre Dame
So polluted with cameras
That only when you close your eyes in a pew
Can you truly see the place
And hear invisible angels sing

If it's Tuesday, it must be Paris
No museums today
The sun is shining
The crepes are steaming
And lippy waiters are in fine form
The locals come out of hiding
And we all sit together at cafés
Watching each other hurry 
Wondering how we ever lived another life