Chapter One
Emmy Martin stood under the lights of a Parisian night, her heart soaring higher than the sky. Everything she had ever heard about Paris, France, was true. Romance was like a perfume that scented the air, everywhere she went life bloomed, effervescent like champagne. She glanced up at the stars; shimmering diamonds lit by the atmosphere and almost drowned out by the glare of Paris. To her, Paris was a world within the world, a place alive with its own song and at peace with its sins. It was so unlike any other place she had ever been before. She almost twirled in that moment; arms wide open to accept the destiny and experiences that awaited her. She felt giddy, overflowing with life and excitement.
It was her first night in Paris and she had come to the Eiffel Tower, as if pulled by an unseen force. She stood beneath the massive structure, infinitely small by comparison, looking up in awe and silence. So much history and romance swirled about her, she felt drunk with it and eclipsed by it. It was raining this first night in France, a quiet rain. She felt like she should dance in that downpour, embracing an invisible partner for a slow waltz under the Tower while the drops fell glistening to the ground. She would have, would have abandoned her inhibitions and entered this new world uninhibited by the world before, but she couldn't quite do it.
All around her were people trying to escape the rain, running under their umbrellas into stores and quiet awnings. She could see a young couple, lost in a moment, getting drenched by the rain as they tenderly kissed. The sweet scent of a café and the autumn rain reminded her of cold nights curled up before a fireplace. Whispers of French drifted by her ears, she loved the sound of it being spoken. It was magical to her; of course, everything seemed to have magic. She felt a little like Audrey Hepburn, lost in the character of Sabrina in Paris.
Under the eaves of the Tower she made believe that she had always been here. The sky above was only a ribbon of blue, draped gracefully over the present of France and left untied just for her. Everything around her was a lullaby, soft and lilting across the tops of scarlet and gold tinted trees. Autumn in Paris was more beautiful than any other autumn she had experienced. She smiled, knowing she was biased in her feelings. Truthfully, she had never traveled this far from her parent's home in Indiana. Autumns in Indiana were nothing compared to the decadent splendor here.
She wished she could always keep this memory. This was the one she wanted to keep most, standing at the very heart of Paris, embraced by the stars and the earth. She fleetingly wished she had brought her camera, though a camera could never quite capture this beauty. If she had been a poet she would write of the feelings welling up inside her standing there. If she had brought her drawing materials she would have begun to draw in charcoal or paint the whole scene in pale pastels or water-colors. She suspected, however, that nothing she had would ever capture this memory as it should be captured.
Heaving a contented sigh, she gave the Tower one last glance before catching a taxi back to her new apartment. She had come here, not just for the experience of coming to Paris, but to learn about Art. The rain was falling harder and faster now that she was out of it, rivulets of water trickling down the glass windows of the cab. A full moon hung by an invisible thread in the sky, dropping down so that it almost caressed the tip of the Eiffel Tower. It was more like an ivory pendant on a silver necklace, but she imagined it to be a huge white balloon ready to burst if it touched the point of the Tower. It would be a gentle death. The moon would slowly open with a sigh as soft as satin and lazily drift to the ground.
"What a beautiful thought," she whispered to the moon. She paid the driver, laughing like a young child as she ran through the cloudburst. Safe again, under the awning of her building, she gazed up into the sky. It was as full as her heart, so full it seemed about to burst.
She ran up the stairs to her room, fiddling with the key in the lock. She had so much left to unpack and so much she wanted to do. She wouldn't think about all that tonight, it was late and jet-lag was finally beginning to claim her. Tomorrow she would finish unpacking and decorating and then she would explore this world within a world called Paris.
Emmy Martin stood under the lights of a Parisian night, her heart soaring higher than the sky. Everything she had ever heard about Paris, France, was true. Romance was like a perfume that scented the air, everywhere she went life bloomed, effervescent like champagne. She glanced up at the stars; shimmering diamonds lit by the atmosphere and almost drowned out by the glare of Paris. To her, Paris was a world within the world, a place alive with its own song and at peace with its sins. It was so unlike any other place she had ever been before. She almost twirled in that moment; arms wide open to accept the destiny and experiences that awaited her. She felt giddy, overflowing with life and excitement.
It was her first night in Paris and she had come to the Eiffel Tower, as if pulled by an unseen force. She stood beneath the massive structure, infinitely small by comparison, looking up in awe and silence. So much history and romance swirled about her, she felt drunk with it and eclipsed by it. It was raining this first night in France, a quiet rain. She felt like she should dance in that downpour, embracing an invisible partner for a slow waltz under the Tower while the drops fell glistening to the ground. She would have, would have abandoned her inhibitions and entered this new world uninhibited by the world before, but she couldn't quite do it.
All around her were people trying to escape the rain, running under their umbrellas into stores and quiet awnings. She could see a young couple, lost in a moment, getting drenched by the rain as they tenderly kissed. The sweet scent of a café and the autumn rain reminded her of cold nights curled up before a fireplace. Whispers of French drifted by her ears, she loved the sound of it being spoken. It was magical to her; of course, everything seemed to have magic. She felt a little like Audrey Hepburn, lost in the character of Sabrina in Paris.
Under the eaves of the Tower she made believe that she had always been here. The sky above was only a ribbon of blue, draped gracefully over the present of France and left untied just for her. Everything around her was a lullaby, soft and lilting across the tops of scarlet and gold tinted trees. Autumn in Paris was more beautiful than any other autumn she had experienced. She smiled, knowing she was biased in her feelings. Truthfully, she had never traveled this far from her parent's home in Indiana. Autumns in Indiana were nothing compared to the decadent splendor here.
She wished she could always keep this memory. This was the one she wanted to keep most, standing at the very heart of Paris, embraced by the stars and the earth. She fleetingly wished she had brought her camera, though a camera could never quite capture this beauty. If she had been a poet she would write of the feelings welling up inside her standing there. If she had brought her drawing materials she would have begun to draw in charcoal or paint the whole scene in pale pastels or water-colors. She suspected, however, that nothing she had would ever capture this memory as it should be captured.
Heaving a contented sigh, she gave the Tower one last glance before catching a taxi back to her new apartment. She had come here, not just for the experience of coming to Paris, but to learn about Art. The rain was falling harder and faster now that she was out of it, rivulets of water trickling down the glass windows of the cab. A full moon hung by an invisible thread in the sky, dropping down so that it almost caressed the tip of the Eiffel Tower. It was more like an ivory pendant on a silver necklace, but she imagined it to be a huge white balloon ready to burst if it touched the point of the Tower. It would be a gentle death. The moon would slowly open with a sigh as soft as satin and lazily drift to the ground.
"What a beautiful thought," she whispered to the moon. She paid the driver, laughing like a young child as she ran through the cloudburst. Safe again, under the awning of her building, she gazed up into the sky. It was as full as her heart, so full it seemed about to burst.
She ran up the stairs to her room, fiddling with the key in the lock. She had so much left to unpack and so much she wanted to do. She wouldn't think about all that tonight, it was late and jet-lag was finally beginning to claim her. Tomorrow she would finish unpacking and decorating and then she would explore this world within a world called Paris.
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