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The first time I saw her was at a small Parisian bistro, walking distance from the Louvre. Le Petit Flore on Rue Croix des Petits Champs, a favorite of mine. Unpretentious and inexpensive. The day had been moody, despite being the first day of summer. It was, in fact, that moodiness which first drew me to her, the sun suddenly bursting from the clouds, illuminating her, setting her fiery mane ablaze. The sudden image of a moth fluttering too near a candle flame gave me but a moment’s pause as I stopped on the sidewalk to soak in the sight of her.

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