‘Circles,’ I said. ‘I feel like I’m in circle again.’
We were there, in Paris. Isn’t this the city of love? It was bragged up to be so, but the feeling at this moment was quite opposite. Things were slipping. We seemed to be slipping.
I wish I was as strong as the Tower. I could withstand anything. Anything except this.
I can’t remember things that were said between us. They too slipped away. As did our time there, in the city of love.
What I do remember is leaving. Circling down the staircase. Leaving it all.
I left us in Paris. I left the circles.
Staircase courtesy of Jeff.