Six Hours in Paris

A clarinet to suavely introduce the delicate French voice. The singer hums and sings while I hold a cocktail, a cigarette, clearly with a cigarette holder, tapping  to the beat, listening to the vibrato in her voice. I’m getting confused. But through her voice I am taken there, to those time.

I had to listen to Edith Piaf for this post. If I had Six Hours in Paris, I would spend them in a cafe’, mesmerized by her voice, sobbing one moment, feeling exhilarated the next. Continue reading “Six Hours in Paris”