When They Die, All Good Americans Go to Paris

Now that I'm reading for pleasure again, I've realized how much I missed it over the last years.  Especially when my book, Paris to the Moon by Adam Gopnik, is filled with lines like

"I heard a flock of ambulances making that forlorn, politely insistent two-note bleating all Paris ambulances make,"

"He is a long-fingered, elegant man of fifty, with the kind of enviable, aerodynamic baldness that in America only tycoons seem able to carry off,"

and

"There are two kinds of travelers.  There is the kind who goes to see what there is to see and sees it, and the kind who has an image in his head and goes out to accomplish it...My head was filled with pictures of Paris, mostly black and white, and I wanted to be in them."

Never have I read a narrative on living in Paris that I agree with so much.

(photo by e.hunt)