14th June 1940. The hasty words and deeds of the Sunshine Girl extinguished the sparkling lights of Paris, becalmed all passion that night the City of Love became the Shadowy City of the Mystified. No river boats on the Seine, Montparnasse bars, cafés, restaurants alike, all shut up shop. In her wake, just empty boulevards. Madams were left cursing lost profit, aspiring thinkers lost for thoughts, dreamers with empty heads, philosophers firing blanks, disconsolate artists humbled, lotharios without a cause, for love went unrecognized, erotic vapours vapid lust turned to dust, massaged intrigue took a wrong turn.
The Emperor’s fraudulent new clothes had nothing on this winsome girl, for cupid’s heroine that she was, was the one who left behind a million broken hearts. She had, you see, called time on ‘romance’. Took to the legs-crossed convent and would kiss only the chalice or the hand of the priest thereinafter.
Thus, it unfolded that each and every blood red soul, young or aged, male and female alike took to their beds and wept. The Sunshine Girl had both left the City and her admirers with an inconsistency some would later name, ‘subterfuge’. Those exiled already, upon hearing the grave news could but utter, ‘surely not’.
As to why she left? A simple hand-crafted note, “Those I love and those who love me no longer make me laugh”.
19th August 1945. As is the way with the French, come a new dawn, come a new muse. Rien ne change; tout reste le même.
An adaption of the original from 3 years back.