France was not as Larry remembered it, many things had changed since the last time he had been there, at that moment it seemed to him that it had a special brightness, a scent in the streets that transported him to another parallel world in which everything was perfect, Paris was something that inflamed the soul, that city had its own magic.

Hemingway once said that "London is an enigma, Paris is an explanation" and that's what Larry wanted to find there, the explanation to all his problems, why he was like that, he wanted to go and forget, reinvent himself, eliminate the dead weight of his past but, what he didn't know was that you can't escape the past. not in Paris, not anywhere else in the world, no matter how much magic it has.

From the moment he arrived it was as if the landscape had become in tune with his soul, with all its pain, the sun did not rise and, when it did, it did not have enough strength to shine radiantly, the days were gray and the one in which he looked out