Bonjour, je m'appelle Musc!
My French is a bit rusty. So many years have passed since my first landing in Paris. Will I still remember the kind words? The love phrases that I whispered to women and men in search of passion?
Indeed, I still remember that first morning here.
I slid away from the skin of people with agility and laid my perfume on everything. I followed fanciful trails through the nostrils of the man who turned towards that red dressed woman. I ended up in the houses of the boulangers, where I lost myself in the sweet smell of bread. I was in children dreams. I would sneak into the bouquet of roses that a shy boy gives to a girl.
Wherever I heard whispers of love, I was there. Ah, the city of love!
The first time I saw the Eiffel Tower, I thought about climbing it up. They told me it was the symbol of Paris, yet the cold of the bolts rejected me. Too bad.
Today, in this late-summer day it is nice to still nestle in the folds of clothes, on the tips of hair. I feel alive as I hug their skin.
I never really left Paris. For those who carry love in their hearts, for those who look for it in every face, in every pure gesture, every city is the right city. The right person, it will eventually come.
What about me? The most powerful emotion I feel is binding two hearts of any color, of any sex, in the name of love. Seal the union by lighting the olfactory spark after the first visual or physical contact. Or through a word, always slipping from one body to another.
One thing I ask. To travel through these roads, never to stop at a crossroads but to discover them all.
Let's go, I'll always be there.