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Snow in Paris

Of course I would visit Paris during the coldest cold snap they've had in years. Of course I would become horribly sick over the course of my stay. And of course I would persist in walking around the city while nursing said sickness. But I was in Paris. Staying in bed was not an option. Besides, your worst day in Paris is still better than any other day. Your worst day flying home from Paris while miserably sick is, on the other hand, actually your worst day. 

I was in Paris to see my best friend get married, her having recently fallen in love with a Frenchman. It's been interesting to watch her merge her world with his, a world where a lack of a shared native language and differing cultural backgrounds present some interesting and unique challenges. But love doesn't take these differences and challenges into consideration, one of my favorite things about it. Because who among us is looking for the least complicated option? Who among us has always wished to settle for the easiest possible scenario? 

As I sat in a velvet-lined chair watching my friend vow to love and cherish her husband under a golden painted ceiling, the whole thing made me so very happy. Because love wins. As it should always. To hell with the unknowns, with the things that make it harder, with the fact that I couldn't understand a damn word anyone was saying. By the time they were married and the room erupted in applause over a concerto of Vivaldi, I was already hopelessly enchanted. And it hadn't even started snowing yet.



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