A displaced Parisienne

Despite cute new boots, tons of February sunshine, and some thought-provoking Joan Didion essays on my mind (currently reading The White Album), I’m missing Paris today.  Call it a mild case of the Monday blues, I suppose?  There are always those places you feel drawn to — a childhood street or coffee shop with fond memories.  Others tug at your sense of place inexplicably, greeting you with open arms and a sense of belonging even though you are a newcomer.  In that way Paris is my “heart-home,” and for me there is nothing quite like the feeling of emerging from the Metro into the streets above.  Je t’aime, Paris.

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