A colleague once told me that Juarez reminded him of Paris.
"Paris?", I said.
"Yes", he told me.
"Paris."
"In what way?", I asked.
"The all-night, street life."
He also mentioned that Paris and Juarez looked similar, and this surprised me.
But as the saying goes, That was Then and This is Now.
Before my married bliss, I spent many a night carousing in Juarez.
Smoking and drinking and talking all night-long.
If Juarez back then was like Paris, then I am grateful that I was able to experience just briefly the life that was there.
I had always been enthralled and enticed (and envious) of pre-World War II-post-World War I life in Paris.
They were exciting and happy days, even for those artists who were down and out.
Juarez
Is
A
Paradise Lost.
Juarez
Is now
A
Haven Of Mayhem & Murder.
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