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One would think after a 133 years of existence that I would be able to articulate the appetite that love stimulates in each of us. The hundreds of thousands of times I’ve experienced stunning sunrises, romantic sunsets, and beaming days filled with pure happiness. I’ve also witnessed days consumed with heavy-hearted skies and cool winds that irk me until I am numb. I’ve been high on love before, as high as 984 feet. Love has also hurt me to the extent that my wrought iron legs rust and rot in the dirt right below our feet. I am in the City of Love and I am enslaved to love’s ecstasy. As a bystander, I have always craved the magic of that one true love story. During my time here, I have felt the sensational power as millions of lovers gaze into each other’s souls. Love can be as delicate and sweet as French crepes. However, adding too much fluff to the recipe can destroy your sweet addiction. As an observationalist, the lack of love and the unfortunate reality of rejection can become an enslavement not of ecstasy but of agony and torture. The sting that resonates with love’s exclusivity and the devastation of love’s rejection in Paris is a heartbreak that never quite fades. The heart will feel as if it has been stepped on 1,665 times and will metamorphosize into my cold wrought iron roots. Paris has over 2.2 million rats scrounging around throughout the lowest parts of the city. Your existence will become similar in the sense that you’re surrounded by plenty of your kind but you are just as unwanted as the rodents freeloading throughout this city of glam and elegance. Your perplexity is linked to the unknown nausea in your stomach; could it be the pain in your heart or the waft of urine radiating throughout each ally? I am a lot like love. I illuminate the city each night as darkness encompasses the sky, just like lovers lighten each others’ hearts throughout the ups and downs of life. The loss of love that burdens people weighs the same as I do, 7300 tons. The awe and astonishment that I bring to individuals is similar to the addiction that love possesses over people. The fountain in front of me is a collection of tears- all sorts of tears just as love infatuates individuals with a buffet of emotions. No matter where you are from, the emotions that are attached to love are universally explored. Through my 133 years, my views, my roots, and the journeys of my visitors, I have discovered the most unlikely gift of all; I don't get to have just one love story. I am honored to acquaintance myself with the 7 million tourists that visit annually, the decades of lovers, and the 1 in 679 proposals that take place in front of me each year. Because of me, these love stories exist. For these lovers, I thank you for allowing me to be a memory in your history.