My Mind Now In Paris

On the streets, as I would imagine it. I would be walking, and getting lost while trying to take everything in. Paris would sing to me, all sounds and whispers - and as Paris would be at her soul, it would be Jazz.

Yeah, that would be nice.

But I couldn’t be there. Not without many, many years of working. And saving. Not without a little foresight and a goal. I suppose Paris now would have to be the postcards, and the pictures, and the movies. It could be a dream, too. Maybe.

That could be just that, though; woolgathering on a rainy Saturday, while Paris sings to me in a different way, through the headphones, and composed by Michael Giacchino.

I can't blame myself. After all, all hearts, in all manner of love, find their way to Paris.

My Heart, though, is really Somewhere Else.