I’m happy that they exist, the Parisians not so much. Softly I hear their wings flutter when they try to take off. They look at me a little cross-eyed. I look back. I prefer to give them half of my banquette, but on a terrace that isn’t always appreciated. I don’t care, they are my friends. And as I said earlier, always take care of your friends. You see them everywhere, on small gutters, around statues or just tottering on the street. They have a perfect live, if you ask me. They can sleep, almost, everywhere, get plenty of free food and they live in the most beautiful city of the world. When the Eiffel Tower starts getting bored, they can easily fly south-easterly towards Jardin du Luxembourg. No traffic jams, never too late for the bus or subway and they also can defecate wherever they like. Especially the latter seems very funny, ha-ha!
I you were a pigeon, where in Paris would you fly to?