Now the time was his, as he felt himself carried away. It was as if everything faded in these moments, when he brought his flute to his lips, and closing his eyes, became lost in melodies. Haunting they were, evoking places both near and far away, memories of the past, and questions about the future.
It was Jehan's song, not only for Paris, and it's people, but for himself. In those late moments of twilight, as the first white diamonds began to sparkle in the sky, he was the song...and that, was all that mattered.