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So I sent this to a friend of mine once. An invitation of sorts, you might say.  Since he was in London and I was in Berlin, I thought it might be nice to meet somewhere in the middle.


Dear John,

Meet me in Paris.

Make it an Indian Summer,

The smell of red wine on your breath

Just like it was yesterday.

Hold you tight to me,

Me holding you,

It will never rain again.

- L