Everybody wants to be a cat…

Paris.

I never made the city a priority before last year. I associated it with a lack of deodorant and with self-indulgent existential hipster filmmaking. All of the fabricated pseudo-romantic crap that I had been subjected to over the years, except for the Disney classic The Aristocats of course (which was REAL romance) was a turn off—probably because I don’t have ovaries. All of the anti-French venom spewed by the British didn’t help either. Even in seemingly good-humor those comments have real influence on perception. Continue reading

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