“We grow up with dreams in our eyes and songs on our lips and we discover that life is not what we thought it would be. And then, we discover nostalgia.”

– Gabriel Garcia Marquez

He kept telling himself that he shouldn’t have any prejudice and discover the city, but even walking thought the Latin Quarter didn’t do the trick.

He saw the Eiffel tower by chance and unespectedly from another part of the city and was amazed at how this tower dominated the scene and could be seen from almost anywhere.

He even went into a tiny vinyl store in Montmartre and bought two old vinyls of Dalida and Edith Piaf, but the music wasn’t singing into his ears.

He felt anesthetized in front of the Moulin Rouge and then couldn’t understand whether he was overwhelmed or just bored.

Two completely opposite feelings and yet he couldn’t determine which one was anesthetizing him.

It wasn’t until he entered the Lafayette Galleries and fitted his head to the dome that the feelings inside him exploded like a brusque come back to reality after a deep sleep.

It was a sweet nostalgic feeling. The city moved forward looking back.

Paris nostalgia followed him all the way back home and during the whole trip the only thing he could think of was coming back.


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