The centre piece of the world’s most perfect city burns.

Four years before me and an ex, disagreeing with all the bars on the Left Bank, sat on a bench under it’s brooding gaze drinking cherry schnapps in the cold dark winter.

Today, an inferno sentences the eye of Paris to the same fate as their beatified saint. With no room in Père Lachaise, France’s beautiful lady is banished to the dusty graveyard of yesterday.

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