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S P R I N G I N PA R I S They say that Paris is a magical city, especially in the spring. They claim gravity is lighter there. And the moon comes closer to the earth. They say that luminous fish come to spawn in the Seine. Once you enter the city limits you become more susceptible to love. American women are particularly vulnerable in this regard. Sometimes Paris takes them prisoner and will not let them go. It tricks them into believing they are there of their own accord. They abandon their language. They take to eating long loaves of bread. Soft cheeses. They lean into their lovers on the streets. They have only a faint recollection of a small town across a sea. A general store. A bank. A diner where farmers gather on winter mornings waiting for the ground to thaw. And themselves as children pedaling past the window on their bicycles. 46 ...

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