show me your paris

I’ve never even met you but I’m in love with you.

Although I’ve watched movies about, read books about you, I have never see you in the flesh with my own eyes so I don’t know what you look like.

Everyone tells me I will love you and I know I will, I do. But I’m jealous that so many other people already have a piece of you in their hearts, do you have a piece of them in yours?

How could you love me the same way I love you? You’re so famous and could never take me seriously, I’m not just another groupie you know.

Our time together is already borrowed but I’m not sure if we are compatible yet. I might just meet you, go about my business and come back to my old life in Melbourne and you will remain a distant memory that I show pictures of to my friends from time to time.

Or I might fall even deeper and try to extend my inevitable short stay with you to get out of you all that I can.

You better be special. To drag me away from my family, friends and lady of leisure lifestyle. You will probably make me cry to begin with and I just hope that I don’t resent you for too long before you make me feel at home in your presence. Although I want you to rape me. Rock me to my core and steal all my money. Teach me and make me grow. Love me and torture me. Make me get lost and comfort me when I’m sad. Make me hate you and despise you. Fall in love with you and consume me. You’re already a contradiction and I cherish that. The prospects of my time with you are scary and amazing.

I want you to show me fashion, music, food and wine. Architecture and art. Culture and passion. Coffee and baguettes. I want you to show me your Paris.