Imagination surrounds the world

I want to whisper to mon chéri on the top of the Eiffel Tower, je t'aime, and then kiss him deeply while the city lights up below. We could pretend to be art snobs and visit the Louvre, then laugh at the Mona Lisa's lack of eyebrows while drunk on vin blanc.

I long to dance with mi amor in the streets of Madrid. We're traveling collectors searching for an addition to our fantastic collection; Reina Sophia boasts Guernica, which might do, but we're just not sure. Is it us? No sé, no sé.

Ars longa, vita brevis, I will tell him at the end of a day of adventure and incredible leather boots, over a fettucini dinner in the most romantic country in the word. He'll insist none of this was necessary, and that he would have been fine with polenta.

The simple fact of the matter is that there are a million ways I can say I will love him pour toujours, para siempe, per sempre, forever, and therefore it only seems fitting to do so in every beautiful city in every gorgeous language. I want him to be surrounded by every last feeling I've ever felt while loving him, and there simply aren't enough beautiful words in all the languages of the world to properly explain.