Novel & Cerita B.a. Paris Books

Their fate might be worse than that of the Parisis. ****************************************************************************

The next day, Jean-Baptiste picked me up in a vintage car, looking even more handsome in casual clothes. "Ready for real Paris?" he asked. "As ready as I'll ever be." He took me to a bookshop that was part library, part café, part time capsule. Books in French and English covered every surface. Readers sprawled in chairs, sipping coffee and completely absorbed. "This place is magical," I breathed. "Yes. I come here when I need to remember why I love this city." He ordered us coffees. "So, American girl. What brings you to Paris looking so sad?"

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Paris asked, slightly offended. “Yes, you look like a kid,” Merch said, laughing. “Let us go, pretty boy,” Matori said, laughing. Matori left Paris outside the Library, “it is a 24-hour library.” Paris picked up Soraya’s scent, thinking, ‘will she remember me? Has her mind been wiped?’ Paris entered the library and followed the scent that was all over the place but he focused on her human scent and then he saw her, her nose in an ancient-looking book, ‘one would think she has read all the books there are to read by now.’

"Come on, now." They continued walking down the street until they got to an old bookstore. It was small and rustic, and old place that was hardly standing on its own now but it was Rosie's favourite in Paris. She could spend all day scanning the shelves or sitting outside on the little outdoor dining tables with a book in hand. Rosie sat down at one of the tables while Anthony walked across the street to get them some coffee. She opened a new book that had been propped underneath her arm, falling into whatever new universe this book would consume her into.

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Blaze considered the question as she smeared Camembert on her bread. “Well, to be honest, at first, I missed London just a little bit, but seeing Paris with you, through your eyes, cured my homesickness. You showed me so many things… and places… I’ve learned so many things these past few weeks that helped me appreciate this city even more. And the paintings you showed me… Paris is really unique.” “I know what you mean,” Fabien said. “Ever since I was a kid, I fell in love with the way Renoir and Camille Pissarro painted this city. And the thousands of photos I’ve seen…Yes, Paris is my city.”

There was nothing wrong with that. There is no single word that I could give to describe PARIS. If I could be turned on by a single structure, a single club, this would be it. The building stuck out like a sore thumb, being tall and sleek. A masterpiece in the center of destruction. PARIS wasn’t the only place being revamped around here, but it would be the first. In a few years downtown Berkely won't even be recognizable.