france is the place where you can grow the perfect love story. it has just the right climate, temper, manner and charm. it also has the right soil for growing love. fertile and airy with the ideal amount of minerals to nurture and foster a love so abundant that every silly young girl would gladly sow her seeds here.
france smells of mint and wax wrapper and incense. it is the accordian playing through the old plaster walls. it is the creak of the wooden floorboards which shudder with the musical strikes of the grand piano. france is the family gathered around the dining table, slowly drunken on good bordeaux. france is the log fireplace when it is cold outside. a walk in the snow when it's about to fall. and the joy of it when it does.