Paris is a party and the artists are its kings. They meet in the Latin Quarter, a meeting place for youth, Bohemia, dreams of paper, romance and colour. Under the roofs of Paris, a puzzle of stones, slate and zinc is drawn. The scent of the bookshelves blends with jazz tunes. Behind every carriage door is a stolen kiss. Latin quarter, cedar wood, sandalwood, drunk with freedom, tonka bean, radiating under the yoke of amber. Heart of Paris pulsating under a Latin fire.