Paris Is Like A Whore.

In a year's time, I've barely found any words to describe the way this town looks to me now.  It has changed.  Again.  There are not words, only faces and places that come and go.  And a lot of soul searching.  Equal parts suffering and pleasure.

So click on the link below to see the weather in My Tropic of Cancer.  No matter how hard I try to describe it in words, I think you have to see for yourself. 


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