This Bar in Paris.

I went to a bar in Paris on the coldest night__ and I was in Paris I had to see what her nights are like. The cold was insane and we gave up the pleasures of pub crawling for any ‘room-that is warm -and has a drink’. I won’t remember its name but I knew as soon as I walked in that I was in great company. There they were -some of my heroes, between cigarette smoke and bar broil were these pictures. It felt like an old friend’s house, a place I would usually talk politics and the state of the world -over wine on winter nights and something colder on summer days. This is what a great bar is, I'll go back soon and this time I’ll remember to write down the name. I always miss Paris and this is probably one -in part - of my series of Love letters to her.