Monday, April 26, 2010
I've done it again: bought a plane ticket to Paris in a fitful moment of impulse-romanticism-instinct-recklessness-happiness. (I know better than to try to disentangle those emotions by now). They're all part and parcel of a larger force that keeps pulling me back to Paris. This is the third time in the past two years that I've found myself buying a ticket in the middle of the night, and it's looking like it won't be the last. In fact, I'd be quite happy to think that this adrenaline-fueled, late-night ticket-purchasing habit will become a regular occurrence in my life. Better than sleep-walking out of a window, right?
It's inevitable really, seeing as my heart is a magnet and Paris is its polar opposite. Or maybe my stomach is the magnet, and St. Marcellin is its polar opposite. Or maybe my closet is a magnet, and Le Bon Marché is its polar opposite? Who cares.
No matter, I'm going back to Paris a month from today. I wonder what kind of outfits the Parisian dogs are sporting this season, and when the peaches and cherries will start rolling into the markets, and what time the sun is setting these days, and what kind of random, cracked-out adventures await me. Rest assured, I'll keep you posted.