The glowing lights flicker about everywhere, racing here and there, dancing and swirling and flashing. Through my bedroom window I can see a long way off and the lights show no sign of stopping. Each one, in my eye, represents a tourist, who is fluttering about, trying to get a dozen pictures of each structure, monument, or piece of artwork. They won’t be able to do it, I think, leaning back in my armchair with a smug smile. They will all go home wishing they had gotten one more picture in this or that spot.
I continue to watch the lights for some time, imagining what might be happening down there, but eventually it becomes tiresome and I get up. I salute the city and close the shutters.
This is my home, and this is Paris.
A piece of unedited work for your enjoyment. Let me know what you think!