I went there to get the wild out and then it got in me. This island of sin and sand that you can’t ever wash clean. You find it, days later, weeks later. Hiding in crevices and waiting in darkness. You cast it away as if it was never on you, it was never yours. And then you find yourself drifting, wishing, flying back to that place to finally absolve yourself, to forgive yourself, to dance yourself clean, to get the wild out.

Or to let it back in.

There was always something of you in Paris. Bright, inviting cafes full of life juxtaposed by dark, narrow, and haunting alleyways. Tall grandiose structures gleaming in audacity and significance, and deep catacombs desperately seeking remembrance, inhabitants, voices, whispers, any disruption to the stillness and stagnation. Oysters and Chablis and ash-worn cheeses that tempted and teased the tongue before engaging your entire body in some erotic, mystic tantra, and baguettes and table wine on the grass in the park by the cemetery that took on the depth and glamour of the conversation through which they were consumed, entombed, appreciated. Maps and memories marked with museums and dingy apartments and stained-glass shrouded cathedrals and lichen-adorned gravestones.

Your beauty and mystery, your dark soul and bright smile. Your tenacious complexity, baby, was always what drew me in and pushed me away and made it so to this day, I’ll never forget

Each footstep was bathed in significance, there upon those city streets. The faintest tap felt like thunder. My high-heel upon Gaudi’s tiles left imprints upon ancient, intricate carvings. My steps traced cracks in pavement like the innavigable veins running through my body, with blood that was pulsing finally and freely, for that city. My soul came alive with every step, every impact, every moment.

As I tiptoed through the narrow streets of the gothic quarter, as I climbed confidently and wholly up the steps of the cathedral at the highest point of the city, as I chased that magic serpentine of Mediterranean shoreline laughing as the water kissed at my heels. That city was mine as soon as I arrived and it took parts of me, split and splintered and shattered upon it with every step I took. With every step, it took. With every start my heart split apart and was left, broken and suffering but beating still. Still beating. And even the faintest tap feels like thunder.