The sun was beginning its steady descent into the west. It’s fiery tendrils painting the sky in brilliant shades of orange and purple. Couples lounged on the sidewalks, sipping drinks at café tables. Cars and mopeds whizzed by, stirring up the coarse sent of fuel and burning. Though even their speed seemed somehow less urgent, less rushed than the traffic of other cities. The masterfully carved facades of stone buildings shrouded the streets in a serene shadow. Paris. She is the subject of many works of art, arguably the most beautiful city in he western world. All of her citizens seem to know it, to feel it in the air.
Virtually unnoticed amidst the picturesque scenery strolled a large dog. Long limbs eating the ground in a gentle glide, stealthy in a way that did not befit his form. Tarmac shook his shaggy head as he surveyed his surroundings. His copper eyes were filled with wonder, as though he were seeing it all for the first time. Alas, he had been in Paris for months, yet he still never tired of it. Paris, je t’aime, he thought to himself, a wry grin spreading over his inky black lips; an expression that lit up his features like a candle. He continued on, jogging from block to block, paws beating a steady cadence on the pavement.
Soon his destination was in view, Le tour Eiffel, the gem on the crown of Paris. He trotted along the outskirts of the structure, not staying too close to its epicenter, where most of the humans lingered. As he went he stirred up flocks of sleek, fat pigeons, sending them whirling off into the heavens. However, Tarmac wasn’t interested in games tonight, so he stuck to prey that could not escape him: the garbage. The overflowing bins near the feet of the tower were the most promising locations to snag dinner. He lifted his muzzle, nostrils flaring gently to catch the sweet scent of human concoctions.
Target Acquired. A half eaten hot dog was soon wrapped in the canine’s jaws. He carried his prize to a park bench, where he reclined upon his muscular haunches. Wolfing down the frank, relish and all. Tongue darting out to lick the mustard off the wrapper and leaving behind a trail of slobber. The sun had all but disappeared from the horizon, night spreading its cool cape over the city. Street lights began to wink on, the only stars one might see tonight. The big dog continued to regard the tower above him, tracing the intricate skeleton of metal.
”I will go up there, one day.” He said, to no one in particular. His feathery tail settling in a semi-circle about his paws. For a moment letting reality lapse into the realm of fantasy. Perhaps he might just sprout wings one day. Hell, if pigeons can do it...

...But everything looks perfect from far away,
"come down now," but we'll stay