From America, with L’amour

Paris, mon ami, I heard that you were hurt.
I heard those bastards tried to take away your beloved treasure–
Your art, your music, your champagne.
Instead, they purloined the lives of your people–
People who defended the precious jewels that you gracefully shared with them.
My heart aches por toi.

Paris, mon ami, I can hear you crying.
I can hear your people wailing for the lives of their loved ones–
People who were enjoying the beauty of your creations whilst drinking your champagne.
Those who are still walking today will continue to revel in your beauty–
But it won’t be the same without the people they shared those moments with.
My heart aches por toi.

Paris, mon ami, I am standing by your side.
Years ago you helped me when my people were in trouble–
When they were taken by those same bastards who took yours now.
You shared many things with me, and comforted me through my darkest times.
Now it’s my turn to bring comfort to you in your darkest hours.
My heart aches por toi.

With L’amour,
America

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