I looked for you last night, on the bridge, but I got distracted.
There was a carnival and a huge old carousel.
Something told me that you too had been attracted to the sight and sounds.
I stood by the carousel and watched it whirling by. It was moving too fast for me to be able to recognise the faces of everyone on board, so I had to wait for it to complete another circuit, then another, and another.
I stood and watched, each time expecting to see your laughing face because, of course, you would be laughing.
I waited for the longest time and eventually the carousel began to slow.
Ever so slowly it came to a halt and the happy throng disembarked, but you were not among them.
Maybe you had gotten off on the other side? I hurried around but the riders had dispersed by the time I got there.
I was a little sad but the sound of the carousel, as it started off with its new load of passengers, raised my spirits.
I went back to the bridge and waited, but I must have fallen asleep because now it was morning.
A street-sweeper woke me and suggested that I get a cup of coffee at the cafe across the road; at least that’s what I think he suggested.
I sat in the cafe and drank my coffee and watched Paris wake up for another day.
The day would be long and pointless.
All that mattered was that I am back on this bridge tonight once more, at midnight.