Today I wish I was in Paris. I want to walk out the door of the little apartment in the 20th arrondissement and hear the clicking of the tricky lock which seemed to sound the start of so many adventures. I want the feeling that I had when I was sliding my hand along the railing that spiraled downwards with the winding steps, moving so quickly that it almost made me dizzy when I looked over the edge to the floor below. No matter how composed I was, I always felt like I was exploding out onto the street from the dark little hallway because of the excitement I had at exploring the city, getting lost and then finding myself again.
Today I want to get off the Metro at Hôtel de Ville and cross to the Île de la Cité from the far side, make my way through the square in front of Notre Dame and look up at the images of saints as I make my to the bridge and cross over to the left bank.
Today I want to go to Shakespeare and Company and browse through the books, have that thrill of knowing that I won’t have the time to make it through every one of them that I want to read and make myself choose just one, which I’ll probably finish at least half of while eating lunch.
Today, I wish I were in Paris.
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