DEAR NICE,

We had a good dance, didn’t we? Along Promenade Anglais, with that bejeweled sea and rocky sand. Between sips of rosé, up cobblestone hills dotted with cafes. Through the clanking of slot machines and lovers caught in a dimly lit alleyway. The truth is, there was no terrorist attack that could demolish your energy. And when I heard that a truck had plowed its way through those same streets two weeks later, there was no news report that could take away my sorrow.

Nice, every one of your street corners radiated the best of human emotion: laughter, empathy, compassion, zeal. A look at the swirling clouds in your sky made time stand still. So did your plazas, buzzing with an innocent joy that echoed for miles.

Sometimes I snuck away, but would always return. To medieval magic in Eze that made me feel like a queen of my own wild imagination. In Monaco, with opulence too extreme for my own life, but still thrilling to witness.

Nice, I stuffed myself with your food. You added inches to my hips and my smile. Sauces with too much butter, breads with too much cheese. Just the way I like it.

In the afternoon, children gathered on cliffs above the sea. I watched them jump into the sparkling water below for hours. Even those who appeared the most afraid always found a way to soar. I made this my own motto for the year. And I've taken so many leaps since then, I can no longer recall what it's like to play small.

Nice, I will always be in love with you. Because there is nothing more electric, nothing more fulfilling, than a good meal, acts of love, and a leap of faith.

Thank You.