It's been six months since I left the opera house, and frankly, I've never felt better.
Frankfurt is nice, but I do miss good old Paris.
The morning started as usual – I woke up, had breakfast and got dressed. It was only when I read the paper that I saw this day was different.
On the front page there was a picture of a place I knew really well, the stage of the Opera Populaire and on it, the old chandelier, broken.
I read the headline, "Chandelier crashes during opera production in Paris" and after that "Sources claim it is the work of the mysterious opera ghost". The Phantom, I remember him, and the old chandelier, I remember the day it was installed and the day I first met him.
It's about time I tell the story…
