Paris is like a woman in her eighties wearing red lipstick.
You can’t help but admire her confidence, her daring to be herself and to show it all.
“Here I am, a little older than you’d expect from a femme fatale, but every bit as fascinating and tempting.”
Madame Paris sits proud and sanguine with her Mona Lisa smile, hinting at her knowledge of what has happened throughout the centuries, without judgment, without sentiment. She glances at her cobblestone streets that once ran with blood as she gestures to her elegant opulence. She flips through the dissent and the creativity with no discernable preference and mingles all that she has been and seen into an infallible sense of self.
chapter 1, “Postcards from France”
The world was sickened and enraged by the recent terrorist attacks on Paris. But like the true phoenix that she is, the city rose from the ashes and bit back.
History is full of stories about hatred and violence. One religion believing they are greater and more important than another. One civilisation believing they are greater and more important than another. The result is posturing by those who think they are in charge and always catastrophic for the people of the world.
Over the centuries, France has endured far greater attacks than the one hurled at her on black Friday 13th November. And like most countries, there has been unrest and viciousness from within. There will always be jealousy and there will always be conflict.
And Paris will always rise above the conflict, held held high and even more enviable than before.