Last month I attended a party organized by an American friend who lives part-time in Paris. There, I met Clara, a friendly American woman in her fifties.
She explained to me that it was her first time in Paris, and that she had saved her money to be able to travel to the city of her dreams. She had fallen in love with Paris as soon as she arrived at the Charles de Gaulle airport.
“It must be real love,” I thought, “how you can fall in love with the airport?”.