Zlatan, The God

2-Bonjour!

That plane ride was awful.  Sitting between an old, grumpy woman and a child isn't really what I've always dreamed of.  I spent half of those 7 hours sleeping, and the other half researching about Paris.  Of course, I had done that before, but I focused this "session" on cultural aspects; sport teams, clubs, libraries, good fast food.  Once I got off my plane, I immediatly made my way to  a cab.  I speak fluent french, as my mom's from Marseille and as I live in Montreal, which is a french spesking city.  Language has always been my thing, as I also speak portuguese(from my dad) and spanish.  It's quite easy to get around with those 4 languages.

"Bonjour monsieur" (hello sir)

"Bonjour mademoiselle!  Ou puis-je vous conduire?'' (Hello ma'am, where can I drive you?)  He asked me, as he put my bags in the trunk of his car.

''42, avenue du Président Kennedy'' I answered him, looking at my phone

''parfait, alons-y'' (Perfect, let's go) he answered, making his way out of the parking lot

Paris is beautiful.  It's packed with cars, noisy and a tad dirty, but it is beautiful.  After I paid him the ride, I made my way to my new appartment's door.  I gave a call to the landowner so I could get my key.  I had bought the place while still in Montreal.  It was quite expensive, but I do intend to have a magnificent view and a close subway station. 

 I got in and I instantly felt good.  It wasn't too small nor too big.  Just perfect.  All the walls were white, ready to get artwork hung on them.  One wall was covered in windows, giving me a beautiful view of the Eiffel Tower and the Seine.  Everything was black and white, from the sofa to the decoration.  I had 1 room and 1 bathroom, which was enough.  The kitchen was spacious and the balcony covered in plants. Simply perfect.  I imediatly started unpacking.  I opened all the windows, let the sun shine in.  It wasn't as cold as in Montreal.  The slight wind felt good.  I let the door open, so the air would go through.  I put some music on, tied my hair up and got to work, starting with artwork.  A beautiful room is  what makes you happy, so logic got me starting with that.  Then, I set a couple of books on the white library next to the tv and I aranged some cups I especialy loved.  Their drawings and pictures contrasted with the plain white ones the appartment had to offer me.  Then  came the time to sort clothes out.  i made my way in the bedroom, which was of an astonishing white.  The bed looked too damn comfy, with fluffy white sheets and soft pillows.  Getting up in the morning would be torture.  The closet was big enough, fitting everything.  Last thing left to unpack was my painting supplies.  How could I leave without them?  I specialy asked the landowner to buy me an easel and a couple of canvases, which were sitting in the living room in front of a wooden stool.  Perfect.  Everything was set up.

I heard my stomach ramble.  Oh gosh! It was already 8 pm!  I didn't even realised I haven't eaten anything since that dreadful airplane chicken.  I opened my computer, quickly googling the closest grocery store.  I grabed my keys, my phone and money and shoved them in my purse.  As I started going down the stairs to get outside, I saw this tall figure coming up.  His hair was impressivly fluffy, giving him kind of a crown of hair, kinda like a lion.  I caught his eyes and he instantly smiled.  He looks like a happy person, I thought.

''Hello'' he  waving.   ''I haven't seen you around here, are you visiting someone?''  he said, in an adorablebroken english.  I know that accent, it's brazilian portugese.  

''Hi, no I just moved in, actually''I answered him, stairing in his eyes.  He looked so innocent, almost child-like.

''Oh then hello, nice to meet you, I'm David.  I live in the penthouse, on the top floor''

''I'm Charlie, nice to meet you too''  I answered, smiling at his accent 

''Where are you going?'' He asked me, scratching his neck, following me down the stairs.  Once on the same floor, I realized how tall and well buit he was.