Paris is my kind of city. The people, the food, the sights live in my memory. When I saw all the locks on the Ponts de Arts Bridge, I thought of all the lovers whose hopes and dreams were placed there, likely with good intent. In my mind I likened the locks to graffiti. While the locks were unique in their symbolism, years later I learned that the weight of the locks caused portions of the linked fencing to collapse. Perhaps simplicity is best.
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