Alone in Paris, yes that’s the ticket. Because Paris is for self-lovers. The City of Lights casts her sleepy glow, as my cheeks flush with amour. She winks playfully beneath charming cafe awnings, beckoning this lover to treat herself to a glass of champagne, with a side of indulgent people-watching. She butters up darlings like me with the crescent of her croissant, melting flavor pleasurable from tastebuds to toes. She sings en francais with perched lips and breathy sighs, that bring to mind the pillow-talk of long lost lovers - fleeting, but rich in my mind with the delicate promise of another exchange just around the corner. But the ménage à trois must wait, for now Paris and I are just beginning this love affair. With a light breeze, she ties a scarf around my neck whispering cheri, before leading me into the depths of her soul (and my own) through twisting alleys opening to magnificent gardens and clarity I wouldn’t have imagined existed. Her old-world charm is the elixir for our young hearts. Paris is one’s waking dream. What a generous lover she is to reveal us to ourselves.

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xoxo, L

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a photo series with Bowman Leong