I'd usually refer Dalat as a ville, rather than a city. I call it ville with the whole of my innocent heart and girliest love. Every time I think about la ville, I always picture a large expense of blue sky dotted with cotton-candy clouds, vast greenery of forestry and streets masked with a thin layer of highland fog. I also think about him and myself when we sat on top of the hill on that chilly afternoon, looking down on the calm and lively city. There are so many emotions associated with la ville - from loneliness as the winds comfort me that day when he mistreated my heart, happiness when he held me tight under the soft sunbeam, to eagerness as the butterflies flutter in sync with the butterflies in my tummy that morning when I was waiting for him to pick me up or enormous sadness as the chills surrounded us when he told me he moved on. A multitude of nature imaginaries accompanied me throughout that lovely experience with my first love. I hold the city deep in my heart, as how we all would hold our first loves. But unlike how I connote him, I feel at peace whenever I imagine la ville. La ville has been genuinely kind to me. La ville is like an elegant mistress who possesses everyone's minds. Her every step emphasizes her gracefulness and sophistication. Her winds are soft, rains are gentle, even her silk-thin sunbeams are comforting as they cast upon the city-wide dewy branches. Just like him, la ville's inhabitants are kind. They are careful with their soft-spoken words, always politely start their sentences with a "dạ". La ville's residents treat each other with a type of authentic love that I would rarely find in the southern region and treat foreign visitors with tremendous hospitality. La ville even has a charm in her daily events. At night, she gracefully lays a light layer of fog to signal curfew hours. When morning arrives, her beams slowly pull away the layer to reveal the rustic lines of the French-styled streets soon followed with steady gusts of the gentle breeze. When it rains, la ville awakens the large mountainous branches to protect its equally thoughtful inhabitants - they greet each other with gentle smiles, friendly embraces, and frequent cups of warm tea. It's obvious to note that la ville is wholly verdant - you'll see an endless expanse of greens. La ville is famous for her romantic forests of pine trees, attracting couples for generations seeking for that rare feeling of bareness and unity with nature. I've seen all the seasons of la ville's: from rows of pink blossoms in the spring to green patches dotted with summertime lavender transitioned to fresh daffodils, all transformed to glittering fairy lights during festive seasons (la ville also notoriously hosts a large population of Christians). All year-round, though, are the lovely rows of colorful hydrangea grown outside the houses' short fences, wild roses in street pots, open coffee fields, and flower valleys. Essentially, every house embraces a French atmosphere with antique architecture and a generous area for greeneries. Personally, I reunite with la ville every year for her chilling aura... Taking a break from the bustling metropolitian cities and enjoying a stay at la ville always feel luxurious. However, the heartwarming people inhabiting at la ville are gems - interacting with them or merely enjoying hot cocoa as they go along their daily errands are the most enjoyable passtimes. The stress-free behavior relaxes even the most tense visitors. And of course, with so many tourists visiting each season, it embraces new trends and styles through the years. Despite this, the soul of the city remains - it's still the same ville I'd call home and the host to so many nostalgic memories and strong feelings. Although we'd normally atatch emotions with events and locations, la ville is different in the fact that my love for her and my former love are separate.