I dedicate this month to love. I don't know why I love Valentine's so much; I just do. So to kick off my Valentine month offerings, here's a poem Harold Pinter wrote for Antonia Fraser in the breathless, early days of their relationship. It's called "Paris".
The curtain white in folds,
She walks two steps and turns,
The curtain still, the light
Staggers in her eyes.
The lamps are golden.
Afternoon leans, silently.
She dances in my life.
The white day burns.
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