Paris, Paris, you were so cold to me; judgmental, biting at my nose with wind, salting my wounds on Christmas day: 3 AM, after I missed the last train. Police bore the bad news and I walked the whole way to my hostel. Strange paths at night. We walked for miles — but at least I wasn't alone.
You're never alone when you travel alone.
Croque Monsieur and crepes: that's all I could afford. Sixty US Dollars to my name and making friends with belly dancers and chefs to go out into the city, explore, tour Montmartre, stand with statues. We saw the Moulin Rouge but couldn't go in. My visa was vital. I slipped into the Louvre by the Lion to take a selfie with Mona before I left.