There is a vast emptiness waiting to be filled; there is a struggle for joy in a time of grieving.

There lies the great divorce of love and loss - right where we sailed across the Seine, and stood in awe of Notre-Dame.

 

 

In trembling cusps of hands that hold relentless lusts of life in bold: vivid and stark, with works of art and hearts that cling though torn apart.

And nights like these have proven true; no nights have passed without longing the nearness of you.

Paris, mi amore, where love was found, and then I lost.