I Remember

I remember all too clearly skipping down the streets of Paris.

I was so obviously loud, and so obviously American..  I remember a group of locals taking pictures of me from across the street,

and after that, I kept my voice down.

I remember that rainy night, walking with linked arms,

and laughing at the little things.  

Laughing at all our worries, because they we're 5,000 miles West of us.

The lights reflecting on the wet cobblestone were almost as beautiful as the men passing by us.

We'd make audible comments about them, because we knew they couldn't understand anyways.

And I remember more than anything, how well I slept in Paris. 

You suggested it was the jet lag, but I think I believe it was something different entirely. 

There was something ethereal about sleeping with the windows open

I guess it was a mixture of the falling rain, and the party across the way

Warm light came in through the open window, almost as warm as the faint laughter 

and music.

I drifted off to it every night, and haven't slept the same since Paris

Sometimes i feel like I haven't slept at all since Paris. 

(me, Paris)