Dear Montmarte,
You have too many stairs. And strange men loitering about who try to tie woven bracelets around my wrist, promising "you beautiful girl, you marry your true love". Also, a definite surplus of cheap souvenirs and mediocre crepe stands.
However, I did like your hilly cobblestone roads, and you know the benefits of a bright splash of color here and there.
Now and then, I even caught shades of Amelie wandering your streets -- this girl certainly was an admirer of yours; I watched as she took pictures of you, finding your pretty spots.
The art congesting your town square leaves much to be desired, but the artists themselves do have a certain flair. I took a fancy to this man's pipe (also he reminds me of my college Russian Literature professor).
By the way, you have one of the dodgiest Metro lines I've ridden. But I guess that's part of your grimy charm.
I will grant that you have one of the best views in Paris, and the earnest musician singing on your steps nearly won me over. Just, be a little sunnier next time, okay?
Love,
Me
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