A rose for the Lady of the Notre Dame

I bought two roses from Jamal, a flowerist in Belleville. He asked me if I knew what his name meant. "Jamal means 'beauty' in Arabic ," - I responded. "Yes, and the flowerists are loved by God, because we make the world a little more beautiful with the flowers we provide to the people that come to us!" I planned to give these flowers to the chef de redaction of the Le Monde Newspaper after blessing them at the Notre Dame. I looked for the priests and nuns of the Notre Dame, the man at the reception gave them a call and told me they would wait for me at the entrance. Nobody came, but in the corner I noticed a nun collecting money for the poor children of Saint Franciscus. She was a member of Franciscaines Réparatrices de Jésus-Hostie, a small lady with a sweet and friendly voice, dressed in light blue nuns-clothing. I gave her some change and offered her a rose. I asked her name. "Mon nom est Maria de Betlehem," - she replied.

When I arrived at Le Monde I was already late. Everything had closed, except three African guards at the reception. I gave the last rose to the head guard. For his wife, who must be a very special lady, because I came all the way from Notre dame with this rose to offer it to her. Thankful the guard received the rose and wished me good luck with my project for the children of Sierra Leone.

The next day I went to the Jewish Quarter of the Rue des Rosiers. To honour the Jewish community of Paris. When I arrived I entered a shop of one of the best fashionistas I had ever met. Her shop sold a designer clothing line called Héroines. The designer was a woman who made clothes, shoes and coats. The message was that all women were heroines and that the size, color or race didn't matter. I saw a yellow dress I wanted to fit. After I fitted the dress, she went to get something special for me: the shoes! After the shoes she took the coat. Now I was dressed from head to toes in the Hèroines clothing line. I almost never buy clothes. On a rare occasion I buy second hand designer clothes. ''But you are in Paris she responded, this is the place to buy clothes!" She was right, and everything fitted perfectly. I never saw shoes like that, the coat was perfect, the dress was perfect. I knew I had to take them. It simply looked too beautiful to leave them here.
The next day I would head to Le Monde in this outfit and with a big bouquet of Roses as a gift of friendship to all the 'chef de redactions' of the newspaper!