All Good Things are Wild & Free

“Have you fallen victim to the ‘Paris Syndrome’ yet?” Bryce eyed me mockingly.

“No I don’t think so… I don’t even know what you’re talking about.” I glanced up in retort.

“It happens a lot to the Japanese tourists, they come to Paris anticipating the beauty, the Parisian lifestyle. They think of the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, and walking along the Seine… but then they pull into Gare du Nord with all of their luggage just to have it stolen, then step out onto the street and smell the sewage, and realize that nobody gives a fuck about them if they cant speak French.” Bryce took a drag of his cigarette and looked over his shoulder smirking at me, his tall stature silhouetting in the streetlights.

We passed between the temporary vendor stalls in Place de Italy, which was lit up like a Christmas tree, in anticipation of the festive season. He stood out amongst the crowd, taking long strides and speaking to me in thick French accented English. We had only met for the first time that morning and spent hours talking about photography, fashion, philosophy and art. As the sun went down the discussion deepened and he requested I accompany him to a party that night. I relented, hoping to be engrossed in Parisian life, as up to that point, I had fallen victim to ‘Parisian syndrome.’