Double Ender

I dreamt of eating my fill in the months leading up to our few days in Paris.

I awoke at 3am on our second day with strange gut cramps and spend the next 4 hours on the toilette shitting and puking until the sun was up.

I could barely eat a thing all day. Which upset me more than the sickness itself.

The Louvre was a hothouse. Swarming with people taking selfies with phones mounted on sticks. A Magnificent palace full of centuries of art. That barely got a second glance from my self pitying arse.

And in the afternoon we climbed the steps to the Sac re Cur. We went inside and a placid looking 50 foot tall Jesus  greeted us with open arms and a kind smile. Nuns started singing and it was kinda magic.

We bought a coolish Heineken on the steps of the church and looked out over the rows of alleyways hills leading to the guts of the city as the sun dipped.

I ate a piece of stale baguette for dinner and slept well knowing I’d make up for it tomorrow.

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