The sky called me from my sleep, and when I woke the sparkling stars blinded my eyes. It was our last night in Paris, though the trip was far from over, and the night was filled with the excitement everyone had about being there expt me. I mean of course I had a nice time, but I didn’t feel as if I was away from home, especially not Paris. I crept across the floor, the cracking wood seemed to rattle the tiny room, as I tried not to awaken my roommate. I was attempting to to close the patio doors to stop the wind from crashing against me while I slept. The thin whit curtains flew in and out of the door guiding me to look at the night. I follow with a feeling of curiosity I hadn’t felt there before, which made me want to look even more.
I reached the patio and stepped onto the cold surface, I was amazed at the site, though I saw it many times before. My eyes saw a different place,yet I remember being out on that patio plenty of times and feeling nothing. I leaned against the rail, starring at the park across the street from where I was. The people seemed so peaceful, and so much in love with one another, something you don’t see everyday. The heat from the long light poles that traced the sides of the park warmed me as I watched the moon dance off the beautiful lake. Something about that night made me see Paris as so many of the others did, and I hadn’t thought twice about.
I almost slept right there on that patio leaning so freely against the rail, as the wind song me to a soothing place inside my mind that not even a dream could have taken me to. But, the twinkling stars wouldn’t let me sleep. Their loud sounds of silence kept me wishing upon them, wishing for that moment to never leave me. Never again did I feel that way while in France, or anywhere else. I’m only left with the memory of that night I had, in my fairy tale called Paris.
