Sometimes, the world makes no sense. I’ve had a theory for the longest time that there are two kinds of people in this world. You’re either a London person or a Paris person. I have always been a Paris person. Paris is the city of love, of hope, of beauty. Paris has been a place that has always felt like a slice of home away from home. She whispers, a city of soft and small buildings, telling you her secrets along the Seine, in the crevices of the cobblestone, in the names on the love lock…