The answers are just out of reach. Hidden in the future. But how can I not believe, when I am walking the streets of Paris, and reading her words? I will not over think it. But the city has a way of making my head spin, and as I discover new parts of Paris, I open myself up more and more to The Narrative of Our Story.
Hilarious. And so beautiful.
But that's...
Thursday I watch the Dinosaur Show from the crowd. Hundreds of French families clap and cheer and wear silly dinosaur hats and buy Unofficial Merchandise from men in leather jackets, out front of the stadium. And the men spit and smoke, while the ladies shower affection upon the children. I'm in a surreal Paris. I am so proud of Meka and her part in this. It's more of a lifestyle than what anyone could imagine. But she is still so damn cool.
We have tickets booked for Moulin Rouge later that night. Christmas Eve at Moulin Rouge. Sure, why the fuck not? I imagine the lighting, the crowd, the tables, the dancers. I prepare my suit, my shoes, my hair...
But nothing prepares me for Moulin Rouge.
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