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The City of Lights is not by default the City of Love. Yet not even loneliness can take away Paris’ loveliness.

It was Ernest Hemingway who said "Paris is a movable feast," and I have always agreed with him. Since it was my last night in Paris, I decided to have my own "progressive supper." I wanted the restaurants to be within walking distance from each other, and at the end wind up near my hotel in the 6th arrondissement, just off the Boulevard St. Germain.

I was feeling a bit lonely and disappointed that I hadn’t fallen in love with anyone this trip. I had already told my friends back home that this time I would meet that special someone while I was in Paris. Now, here I was, my last night in town – and still alone.

It was a perfect late-summer evening. The sun set with an explosion of orange, pink and violet as I sat sipping my Kir Royale at the Cafe d’Flore. I took a leisurely stroll through the old neighborhood, pausing now and then to window-shop. I wandered across the Pont des Beaux-Arts and over to Les Halles and the restaurant Au Pied de Cochon.

As the maitre d’ escorted me to a choice table on the terrace, I stole furtive glances around the room, hoping to find a single man within easy flirting range. Alas, there seemed to be only couples or groups of women nearby. My waiter, though cute, was far too young. I sighed and decided a little Champagne and oysters would cheer me up considerably. Nor could I resist a bowl of delicious onion soup, washed down with a cool glass of Provençal Rosé. Yes, I thought, I’m feeling much better.

I meandered a few blocks away to L’Escargot Montorgueil for a few, but of course, escargots. They were plump little darlings, swimming in garlic and butter and dusted all over with chopped parsley. I chose a wonderful old Burgundy red to accessorize the dish. Yummmmm… What a splendid idea!

Suddenly, over the rim of my wine glass, I noticed an attractive Frenchman looking my way. Oh la la – things were looking up. Then he smiled at me, and I thought I would faint. When he got up from his table, I was certain he was coming over to meet me but, alas, he walked right by.

With a sinking heart, I watched as he embraced a glamorous blonde. My beautiful escargots, so delicious a moment ago, immediately seemed to coagulate on the plate.

I paid my bill, and left the restaurant without even looking at the handsome Frenchman and his friend as they chatted cozily in a corner of the bar.

My mood was somewhat dejected as I crossed the Pont Marie to the Ile St. Louis. Gliding along the Seine below was a very grand Bateaux Mouche, its lights blazing against the old buildings. The decks were filled with happy couples laughing and pointing out the sights to each other. Romantic music came floating up to me, and I could see couples dancing on the upper deck.

Looking down along the quai I saw pairs and pairs of lovers strolling hand-in-hand. Others were sitting close together along the water’s edge, locked in tight and feverish embrace. Somehow I didn’t feel hungry anymore. My plans to go to L’Orangerie for a leg of lamb and a rich Bordeaux no longer seemed interesting. By now I was feeling absolutely wretched and sorry for myself, so I decided to wander back toward the hotel.

The Pont Neuf looked beautiful, with night lights glowing against the stone facade. I had photographed the bridge earlier in the day and decided to capture a few night images.

Working took my mind off my loneliness, and the lighting was perfect. I photographed it from one side to the other, and then from the top and from the bottom. Wanting to get some distance shots, I walked over to the Pont des Beaux-Arts. Looking through the viewfinder, my breath caught: the wide-angle lens had captured the entire bridge. It shone golden in the night light, the sparkling Seine below.

Ah Paris! I sighed. How could any city be more lovely than you? I stood there, body tingling and heart swelling with love, looking out at such incredible beauty. Tears came to my eyes, and I forgot all about my loneliness and depression.

Then, as if on cue, a deep, sensuous voice said, "Bon soir Mademoiselle." I turned around to gaze into a gorgeous pair of laughing, chocolate brown eyes.