'Paris is like a whore. From a distance she seems ravishing, you can't wait until you have her in your arms. And five minutes later you feel empty, disgusted with yourself. You feel tricked'- Henry Miller, Tropic of Cancer , 1934 When my closest friend, Felix, told me that he was visiting another one of our friends in Paris over the Easter bank holiday weekend, I joked about letting me tag along. 10 minutes later, I was looking at buses over to the continent, a large grin on my face about the prospect of spending a weekend with good friends in a city that I have yet to fully explore. Even the thought of being surrounded by the French could not damper my mood, as my mind filled with thoughts of gazing upon the numerous landmarks that call the French capital their home. Paris embraces its history with open arms, with my curiosity peaked due to reading through Alistair Horne's Seven Ages of Paris . 'Excited' was a vast understatement. I do love a bit of cultu...
The ramblings of a young man who has no idea how to adult.