Paris isn't usually that cold and that snowy. Last week, the
first snowflake touched the Parisian ground. As an ex-New Yorker nothing can
make me happier – even though a true New
Yorker wouldn't even call what’s falling from the sky: snow. It is way too
delicate, not yet on the ground it is already gone - BUT in the eyes of Parisians,
I see *panic*. In women’s outfits, I see confusion.
The last 3 winters were NY winters for me. And as the “snow”
is falling I feel nostalgia.
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